The Ex at the University
by Guenelyn
Summary: When Bones runs into trouble at an anthropology conference in Vermont, will she be able to get herself out of it? Or will our favorite knight in FBI standard issue body armor have to come to the rescue again? An eventual B/B story, what else?
1. Of Ex's and Oh's

Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. If I did, Booth and Bones would have been making sweet love by now…

Spoilers: Probably. I'll be safe and say that there are spoilers through season 4.

A/N: This one's going to be a multi-chapter story. I'm pretty sure I know where it's headed, but you never do know, do you? Enjoy!

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be like this. This trip was supposed to be fun; a couple of lectures at the local university, a conference with a few of the anthropological experts in the area, perhaps a spa day. Most of all, Temperance had been greatly anticipating time to relax. Apparently, that was not going to happen, she thought as she gazed across the table at her dining companion.

He was, admittedly, gorgeous with his thick blonde hair and clear green eyes. His features were well defined; strong chin, sharp cheekbones, straight nose. He was tall and fit and neatly dressed. He was just as unendingly arrogant and self-centered as he had been in college.

This was the second date she'd been forced to sit through since she'd run into him on campus two days ago.

"So, that was how I got into teaching." He laughed to himself; a nice, low sound, very attractive. Very much grating on her nerves.

"Lord knows there aren't enough great cultural anthropology professors in the world."

She smiled politely and nodded her agreement, all the while wishing she were anywhere but here.

"Listen, Logan, it's been really great catching up with you, but I've really got to focus on my commitments while I'm here in Vermont."

He nodded like he understood. "Of course, of course." Then kept right on talking. "My brightest student reminds me a lot of you when you were her age; brilliant, eager, and self-disciplined. Not to mention the fact that she takes crap from no one." He smiled a brilliant smile, all white teeth and hard lips, and Temperance found herself smiling back. This was part of the problem, she supposed. He'd say one slightly complimentary thing and she'd find herself getting sucked in by his natural charm and good looks. Just like it had been in college. But she was more experienced now; no longer the naïve grad student so focused on her work that she ignored his presumptuous tendencies. She was older now, not so much wiser as more in touch with humanity. She liked confidence in a man, but she could only handle so much of his self-promotion before her head started to pound.

"Tempe? Are you alright?"

She looked up into his concerned green eyes and forced a smile.

"Fine."

"Good," he said, placing money on the table to cover their meals. She'd tried to insist on splitting the bill last night, but she'd lost that argument. She wasn't about to start it up again, not with the headache now tip-tapping at her temples.

He walked her to her rental car and waited while she beeped it open and slid into the driver's seat. Then, he stepped between her and the door and leaned down to eye level.

"How about drinks tomorrow night?"

She had half a mind to turn the car on and step on the gas. Who cared if he got caught by the slamming door? The look on his face would be absolutely worth it. She mentally shook herself. That was no way to behave. She'd clearly been spending too much time with Booth. That thought brought a smile to her face which Logan must have misinterpreted as consent because he leaned in, kissed her on the cheek, and stood.

"Great, I'll pick you up at your hotel around nine, then?"

She blinked up at him. Had she just agreed to another date? Godamnit, Temperance, pay attention.

"Logan, I really can't…"

"Would ten be better? You could meet me there if you like…"

She wished she were standing up so that she could face him head on, but he was standing so close to the car that it was impossible for her to get out without ending up plastered to his chest.

"I have to focus on my lectures and the conference," she insisted.

His smile was belittling. "Tempe, you need to loosen up. Afraid to have a little fun? You know you always have a great time with me." He chucked her under the chin and stepped away from the car. "We'll compromise. I'll pick you up at 9:30." He waved and disappeared into the dark parking lot.

Temperance shut the door, started the car, and slammed down on the gas peddle.

* * *

It was time for a more direct approach, she decided the next evening as she waited for Logan to arrive at her hotel. She'd simply tell him that she wasn't interested in him. He'd get the picture and leave her alone. Right?

Wrong.

"Of course you are, Tempe. You just don't know what you want. Luckily for you," he smiled that smile parents give children who think they're getting ice cream for supper. "I do."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on," he said, tugging on her elbow to get her out the door. "Let's go get that drink."

She yanked her arm from his grasp, crossed her arms, and regarded him through narrowed eyes.

"I think you'd better leave," she stated.

He looked extremely confused. For a fairly intelligent man, the guy sure was dense. "What are you talking about? We're going for drinks."

"_You_," she said, poking a finger towards his wide chest, "can go for as many drinks as you desire. _I_ am going to stay here and relax."

"Tempe." She was really starting to hate that name. "If you want to relax," he said through that cocky grin, "I'll help you relax."

Her mouth opened in surprise and she just managed to suppress a gasp of outrage. Of all the…

But then again, he was fairly attractive. And if she remembered correctly – which she knew she did since she had an I.Q. of over 150 – he had been fairly decent in bed.

"You're thinking about it," he said smugly. "Just give in, Temperance. You know you want me."

She stared up at him. Unbelievable.

For one more moment she contemplated using him to satisfy biological urges, then the moment passed and she shook her head.

"No."

"We'll see," he said. Then he took her arm once more. "Now, let's go get that drink."

She thought about kicking his ass, but that would take too much energy and now that she thought about it she really could use a drink.

"Fine," she said, "but I'm driving myself." She grabbed her bag, shut the door and strode off down the hallway. She heard him chuckle from behind her and gritted her teeth.

An hour later she was very close to pleasantly buzzed and Logan's hand was on her thigh. She stared down at it.

"Remove that," she muttered.

His lips quirked and he slid his hand higher. She grabbed his wrist, twisted, and was gratified to see him wince and pull his hand back.

"I'm not interested," she reiterated.

"Of course you are."

She took a long sip of her black raspberry Smirnoff and looked up at him.

"I'm a lesbian."

He laughed. "We both know that's not true."

"You haven't seen me in years," she pointed out. "It could be."

He leaned in close and pinned her with a gaze. "No lesbian I've ever met is so in touch with her feminine sexuality as you. Not around men anyway." His eyes caressed her body and she suppressed the urge to knee him in the groin.

"I have a boyfriend," she said.

"No, you don't."

"How do you know?"

"Because if you did, you wouldn't have agreed to go out with me in the first place."

She gasped in indignation. "I was merely catching up with an old friend."

"Lover," he said, his voice low and soft and rumbling.

"What?"

"We were lovers."

She stared at him for a moment. "We were sexual partners, but that isn't the point. The point is that it wasn't a date."

"Then why are you here with me now?"

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times while she tried to formulate an answer to his ridiculous question. Finally, her eyes narrowed. "I tried very hard not to be," she shouted, then stood from the bar stool and reached for her purse. She placed a twenty on the bar and turned away.

"Temperance."

"Good bye, Logan, have a nice life."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Tempe," he called. She could hear that smug smile all over his voice.

* * *

And see her he did. He showed up at the lecture hall at lunch time, just as she was finishing her speech and dragged her down to the cafeteria. She reminded him that she had a boyfriend, and he pointed out that this was hardly a date and her boyfriend couldn't possibly mind. She was fairly certain he was only humoring her.

The next day she tried to hide from him. It was juvenile, she knew, but he was starting to drive her insane. He located her in one of the faculty lounges and she followed him to the open-air courtyard merely so that he couldn't embarrass her in front of the other professors.

"Just, please, leave me alone, Logan. I really haven't got time for this."

"Haven't got time to eat?" He asked and she had nothing to say to that so she ate her salad and ignored him for the rest of the afternoon.

Short of telling him that his arrogance and controlling nature annoyed the hell out of her, Temperance was at a loss as to how to get rid of the man. He was like a damn parasite and she had no clue how to remove him.

That night she decided that if she was going to make it through the next week and a half with her sanity intact, she needed help.

Angela answered on the second ring sounding just as upbeat and perky as always.

"Angela Montenegro's office. Angela speaking."

"Hey, Ange, it's me."

"Brennan," Angela squealed. "How's Vermont?"

"Vermont is great, Ange, but I could use your advice."

In her mind, Temperance could see her friend sit up a little straighter, her smile grow a little wider.

"Okay, shoot."

For the next ten minutes, Temperance explained the situation with Logan. She wasn't sure what Angela could do from D.C., but her friend always seemed to have the answers to relationship problems. It was either this or call Sweets, and that was _so _not happening. On the other end of the phone line, Angela was still silent.

"Ange?"

"Shh, I'm thinking."

Temperance tried not to fidget.

"Have you tried just telling him that you're not interested?" Angela asked.

"Of course, Angela. I'm not totally incompetent."

"Just checking," Angela soothed.

There was silence for a few moments, then Angela spoke.

"You could tell him you're a lesbian."

"Tried it. He said something about feminine sexuality. He obviously didn't believe me."

"Did you try telling him you have a boyfriend?"

Temperance slouched back on the bed. This was not helping.

"Yes," she sighed. "He pretends to believe me. However, he still will not leave me alone."

Angela whistled under her breath. "This one is dedicated, Bren. Maybe you should just give him a shot."

Temperance sat straight up in bed. "I will not give him a shot. I gave him a shot in grad school. He is conceited and insolent and controlling…"

"Alright, alright, sheesh." Angela was quiet again for a moment.

"Come on, Ange, just tell me what to do. You always have the answers to these types of things."

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." Angela sighed. "Tell you what, let me sleep on it. I'll come up with a plan and call you in the morning."

"I have to be at the university by nine."

"I'll call at 7:30, then," Angela reassured.

Temperance allowed herself to relax slightly. "Thanks, Ange, I really appreciate your help."

"No problem, Bren. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yes, tomorrow. Oh, and Ange, please don't tell the others about this."

Angela laughed. "Of course, Bren, I won't tell _the others_."

* * *

That night Temperance dreamed that Logan was chasing her through the dimly lit hallways of the university. Angela and some unidentifiable shadow were waiting for her at the other end, urging her to move faster, but she never got any closer, they were always out of reach.

She woke at quarter to six; fifteen minutes before the alarm she'd set. She wasn't sure why she'd bothered setting it, she never used one at home.

She went about her morning routine; shower, hair, bit of makeup. She dressed in well-fitted charcoal slacks and a floaty cream-colored blouse. She attached a purple beaded necklace – a Christmas gift from Angela – around her neck and went to make coffee.

It was 7:45 before she began to worry that Angela wasn't going to call. But her friend had never let her down, so she ignored the panic and sipped her coffee.

By 8 o'clock, she'd decided that Angela must have overslept and surely she'd call soon; she had to be at work by 9 o'clock herself, after all.

At 8:15, Temperance started trying to convince herself that she didn't need Angela's help to get rid of Logan. She'd simple…she'd just…

She shook her head and slipped into sensible black heels. She had to leave in 15 minutes. Perhaps Angela would call her en route.

At 8:30 she opened the door to the hall and almost walked into the fist which had been poised to knock. Her eyes slid up from the lean waist to the broad chest…

"I swear to god, Logan, I…"

…right into the brown eyes of Seeley Booth, where they froze.

* * *

A/N: Don't forget to let me know what you thought!

Oh, and quick question, any of you super-fans know if Booth went to college, and if so where and for how long? I couldn't remember if it was ever mentioned in the show. Thanks a bunch!

And before you ask, Tempe's not at the university that she attended. She's at some unnamed university in Vermont. It just so happens that one of the guys she went to school with (and slept with) is a professor at the same university.


	2. Of Surprises and Deception

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, real life's been hectic. Thank you to everyone who read the last chapter, and a special thanks to those who reviewed, you guys keep me writing. Enjoy!

_

* * *

_

At 8:30 she opened the door to the hall and almost walked into the fist which had been poised to knock. Her eyes slid up from the lean waist to the broad chest…

"_I swear to god, Logan, I…"_

…_right into the brown eyes of Seeley Booth, where they froze._

* * *

"Booth," she managed to gasp. "What are you doing here?"

His eyes roamed her body and she knew that he wasn't checking her out, but checking for damage; he seemed to do the same thing every time they were apart for any length of time. Probably some overprotective alpha-male thing.

"Angela said you needed me." His eyes pierced her with a concern so genuine that her throat felt suddenly tight. "So, here I am. Now, what's wrong?"

"I…" She couldn't speak, she was too busy replaying what he'd said in her mind. She was going to kill Angela.

"Bones?" He bent down to peer into her face. "You okay?"

"I…" She glanced down at her watch. Shit. "I have to go."

She shut the door behind her and brushed past him into the hallway.

"Bones?" He called as he took off after her. "Bones, what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing," she said briskly, stepping into the waiting elevator. No way was she asking Booth for help with Logan. If that didn't scream helpless female, then she didn't know what did. "Everything is fine."

"Oh, hell no." The elevator doors began to close, but Booth slammed his foot down between them and waited for them to reopen. As he stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding silently shut behind him, Temperance suddenly wished she'd taken the stairs. His presence in the small, enclosed space was stifling. She didn't know what it was about this particular elevator which forced that realization upon her; they'd shared plenty of other elevators and she'd never felt intimidated by him. Perhaps it was the gleam of something she wasn't sure she wanted to name in his eyes, or maybe it was because she knew implicitly that his presence here would only complicate her mess.

She forced herself to take a step forward and return his frustrated glare.

"Let me get this straight. I drove all night to be here for you and now, suddenly, nothing is wrong?" His finger was dangerously close to her face and it took all of her control not to grab it and wrench his arm behind his back.

"That is correct," she spoke calmly.

"Well," he said through gritted teeth, "you'd better make something up then, because I did not drive ten hours on the whim of some drama addicted artist."

"Angela isn't…" She stopped when he cocked an eyebrow in a clear who-are-you-trying-to-kid look.

"Fine. But it isn't _my _fault."

The elevator dinged, telling them that they'd reached the ground floor, and the doors slid open.

Temperance forced herself to move past him again and walk calmly through the gilt and marble lobby.

"Where are you going?" Booth asked from a pace and a half behind her.

"The university," she answered. "I'm giving a speech there in—" she glanced down at her watch, "—twenty minutes."

She put on an extra burst of speed as she pushed through the doors, and had nearly made it to her rental car before he grabbed her arm.

"I'm driving."

She stared up at him, incredulous.

"You are _not_ coming."

"I sure as hell am," he muttered and held his hand out for the keys.

"Oh, yeah, _right_," she snorted.

She beeped the car unlocked and slid into the driver's seat. She nearly had the thing in gear when the passenger's side door opened and Booth folded himself into the car.

"Let's go," he said. She rolled her eyes, put the car in drive and pulled out into the street. She didn't have time to argue with him.

* * *

"I'm fine, Booth. You can go back home, you know," she told him at a red light about five miles from the campus.

He laughed. "Oh, no, I can't. When Angela told me that I needed to get up here, I told Cullen that my partner was having some trouble and needed my help. He granted me a week and a half paid leave to come get you sorted out. No way am I going back to D.C. to sit in my office till you get back. You know they hardly ever give me a new case when you're away."

The light changed and Temperance stepped on the gas.

"I'm sorry, Booth. But I'm really fine. Angela must be extremely bored if she's making up imaginary crises for you to come rescue me from." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Booth shrug.

"I've always wanted to visit Vermont. All these green mountains and those cute little teddy bears. Aren't there supposed to be more cows?"

Temperance rolled her eyes and groaned inwardly.

"Why don't you use your vacation to spend time with Parker? You could take him away somewhere. He's out of school for the summer, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Booth sighed. "But Rebecca and her new boyfriend took him to visit her parents in Nevada. They'll be gone for the next two weeks." He sounded so dejected that she nearly told him just to stay.

"I'll be in and out of lectures and conferences, Booth. You'll be bored silly."

"I can make my own fun, Bones. You don't have to worry about me. Maybe I'll check out those teddy bears." He flashed her a charm smile.

She pushed her foot down on the accelerator. Thanks to Angela, instead of just one, she now had two impossible-to-shake males to deal with.

* * *

He had told her the truth; Cullen really had granted him a leave, Parker really was in Nevada. He knew without a doubt that _she_ wasn't being entirely truthful with _him, _however. There was something going on that she didn't want him to know about. Well, guess what? He wasn't one of the top FBI agents in the country for no good reason. He'd figure out what was bothering Ms. Temperance Brennan, and then…well, he'd _think_ about fixing it.

He followed her into the university, down a couple of old, dusty hallways which made him grateful that his college days were long over, and through an open doorway.

He froze as he stepped in behind her. The lecture hall was huge, extravagantly decorated, and filled to overflowing with college students. Every head swiveled to the doorway as they entered.

Bones gave a small wave and headed straight to the platform at the front of the room. Most eyes followed her progress. Only the students nearest the door continued to gawk at Booth. He gave them a smile and a nod and slid into a seat near the back.

A man in a green button down shirt and an old beige suit stood as Bones approached the podium. The two shook hands, pleasantries were murmured, and then the man stepped up to the microphone.

"Would everyone please welcome Dr. Temperance Brennan, world renowned forensic anthropologist."

The hall filled with polite applause. A boy about four rows back gave an enthusiastic wolf-whistle. Booth thought about shooting him, then realized that his gun was locked in the glove box of his SUV, along with his badge. Too bad.

"Thank you, Dr. Loughlin. And thank you all for having me. I'm honored to have the opportunity to speak for you."

She looked so at home up there in front, he thought. The teacher, the instructor, the expert. She smiled out at the room like she owned it, but her eyes didn't crinkle at the corners, her irises didn't dance with mirth. This was her public appearance smile, her you're-paying-me-a-lot-of-money-to-be-here-so-I'll-at-least-look-like-I'm-enjoying-it smile. This wasn't the smile he loved, the one he was sure very few people ever got to see. He counted himself lucky to be one of them.

"For thousands of years…"

He tuned out her words. He'd heard this speech quite a few times over the last four years. He understood little more of it now than he had the first time. Instead, he let the sound of her voice wash over him; the low, smooth cadence, the sureness in the tone, in the words; never stuttering, never pausing where it wasn't supposed to. Her hands danced before her, clicking the button to change the slide, pointing the laser, pushing back her hair. She'd left it down today and he knew it would be annoying her now. She always complained about her hair being in the way when she left it down. He was half surprised she hadn't shaved it all off by now. He was very glad that she happened to be more vain than she let on and would probably never dream of doing such a thing.

She looked perfectly at ease; calm, content, alert. But he knew that something was wrong. He knew it by the way her eyes would jump from the clock up on the wall to the door and then back to the crowd. He knew it by the way her shoulders tensed just slightly the two times the doors opened to admit newcomers. He had no idea what was bothering her, but he was her partner and he wasn't about to let her deal with it alone. He wished he had his gun.

"We're going to open the floor for questions now." The man in the bad suit was back at the podium beside Bones, looking timid and unsure next to her perfect poise.

Hands came up all over the hall and suit-man began fielding questions.

"You're an author, Dr. Brennan. I'm sure we've all read your books." There were murmurs of agreement throughout the hall. "My question is, who do you use as inspiration for your characters?"

Bones seemed to think it over for a moment, her eyes intent on the girl who'd asked the question. Or perhaps she was considering the best way to thank the girl for stating the obvious. _'I'm aware that I'm an author.'_ It would be just like Bones to latch on to that part of the statement and forget about the rest.

"My characters are all fictional," she said in her cool, logical way. "Next question please."

The girl looked like she might protest, but 'suit' was already motioning to the next student.

"Your books are based on actual cases, correct? In your newest book, Agent Lister finds the body of a woman who had been hung by the neck because someone thought she was a witch. Was that a real case?"

Bones looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. "The cases in my books are completely fictional. They are, of course, based in fact. Meaning that these things _could_ happen. To the best of my knowledge, they have not."

"What about that case in Washington last year? It was all over the news. That book publisher eaten by ants."

"She was an agent," Bones corrected. "And the ants didn't…"

"I'd like to remind everyone that Dr. Brennan is here to discuss her work as an anthropologist at the Jeffersonian Institute, not as an author."

Booth shook his head and chuckled. "Bones, Bones, Bones," he muttered under his breath.

There were a few questions about bones and mummies and cases at the Jeffersonian, then a red-haired boy about halfway back stood and rubbed a hand over his head.

"What's it like working with the FBI?"

Bones seemed confused for a moment. Her eyes scanned the hall and Booth knew that she was looking for him. He smiled when she gave up and turned back to the student.

"It's fine," she said.

The red-head opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, shook his head, and sat.

"What do you think of your partner?" A brunette girl asked. Ah, now this could be interesting.

"In your book, Kathy seems to think very highly of Agent Lister."

Bones smiled; the real, eye crinkling, teeth showing smile he'd been waiting for.

"My partner is highly acknowledged in his field," was all she said.

Booth couldn't take it anymore. She looked too polished and self-assured up there at that podium. If there was one thing he couldn't resist, it was rattling Temperance Brennan. He stood.

"Is he cute?"

Her blue eyes swiveled to him and her smile faded. She watched him for a long moment as every head in the room turned to him. Then her lips tilted up and the smile reappeared along with that glint in her eyes which, from much experience, told him to duck.

"I wouldn't know," she said slowly. "He's my partner, I've never looked at him that way."

"Because, you know, some people might look at the way you describe Agent Lister in your books as a way of transferring your feelings for your own partner."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't believe in psychology."

He grinned. "I know."

Whispers broke out throughout the hall. Booth slunk back into his seat as Bones continued to glare at him.

"Is that…"

"Is he…"

"I bet that's…"

"…a case?"

"…his gun."

A gaggle of girls two rows in front of him turned back and giggled.

"Definitely Andy Lister," he heard one of them say.

Bones cleared her throat.

"If there are no more questions…"

Twenty minutes later, Booth watched as the hall slowly emptied. She'd been great, as always; intelligent, enigmatic, charming. He watched as she conversed with bad suit guy, oblivious to him watching her.

'Bad suit' left and Bones bent down to retrieve her case. The door opened and a man with unruly blonde hair stepped into the hall. He scanned the place, ignoring Booth and the few students still lingering, and headed towards the platform. Bones looked up and her shoulders tensed. She seemed to catch herself, however, because her public-appearance smile slid into place and she stood straight to face the man.

Booth felt himself tense and his hand shifted automatically to his belt where his gun should have been. It wasn't, of course.

'Blondie' spoke a few words and Booth watched Bones's eyes narrow and her chin set. Her eyes flicked to him, and she seemed to relax a bit. She replied to whatever the man had said, and then motioned towards Booth with an upraised hand. 'Blondie' turned and locked green eyes with Booth's brown ones. He cocked his head almost imperceptibly, then turned back to Bones. Whatever he said clearly made her angry. Booth was about to stand and go to her when 'Blondie' turned abruptly and left the hall.

Booth met her at the door and took the briefcase from her hands. She let go with obvious reluctance and led the way into the hall.

"What was that all about?" Booth asked.

She looked over at him as if he were a bit dim and replied, "That was a lecture, Booth. You've heard it before."

He rolled his eyes. "I meant that thing with 'Blondie' back there."

"Blondie?"

"The blonde guy you obviously weren't too happy to see."

She shrugged, but there was something in the way her voice came out next that told him she wasn't being entirely truthful. "An old classmate."

"What were you two arguing about?"

"We weren't arguing," she said slowly. "He was upset about something his boss said to him earlier."

_That_ was total BS, but Booth decided to let it go for now. He'd get to the bottom of this if it took him the entire week and a half they were here.

He grinned down at her as they stepped out into the sunlight. "I'm starved. They got a diner in this town?"

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought! And if anyone's waiting for an update on Just Life or Between the Lines, I'll have something up by tomorrow, or Wed. at the latest.


	3. Of Diners and Rental Cars

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4 (the most current episode)

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. I just finished my Janet Evanovich fics, so now this is my top priority. I'll try to update at least once a week. I think this is the first fic I've written where I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with it, so suggestions are definitely welcome!

* * *

"What do you mean, there's no pie?" Booth asked the waitress incredulously. He looked so serious and concerned that Temperance nearly broke out in a laugh.

"We don't sell pie, sir. But we've got a nice brownie a la mode," she replied with a smile. "Or there's our strawberry shortcake." She winked conspiratorially. "Or Miles makes a scrumptious sticky bun."

"Ah…ah…sticky bun?" Booth asked, his eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish.

"Scrumptious," the waitress confirmed with a nod and a wink.

Temperance rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. "I'll have a brownie a la mode." She glanced across the table at Booth; he seemed to be in shock. "One for him, as well."

The waitress made a note in her pad, smiled at Booth, and left.

"Booth?" Temperance asked.

"No pie," he said, his eyes finally turning to focus on her. "What the hell kind of diner doesn't sell pie?"

"Apparently, this one," she replied with a chuckle. He really was rather entertaining.

"But, no pie, Bones," he said, as if that one statement were the answer to all the world's difficult questions.

"Yes, Booth, I heard."

"No pie."

"Listen, Booth, I'll buy you a pie at the grocery store. You'll be fine."

His eyes flashed up and he almost looked angry. Temperance held back another laugh.

"Grocery store? Grocery store, Bones? It's not the same. Grocery store pie isn't fresh and flaky and…" He cut off with a groan.

"I'm sure the brownies will be good, Booth. You don't always have to eat pie." She took a slow sip of her water and watched as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You're right. I can deal without pie. I'm in a new place, I'll try new things." His eyes opened and he smiled at her. "Brownies it is, Bones."

"Good," she said, catching sight of their waitress coming across the room, "because here they come."

Booth smiled and picked up his fork. The waitress set down their desserts and left them to it. Booth breathed deep, let out a long breath, then took a bite. He chewed slowly and swallowed.

"Pretty good," he said, "but it's no pie."

Temperance groaned.

* * *

"I've got to get back to the university for a conference," Bones told him after lunch. "Will you be okay on your own?"

"Bones," he said, placing a hand at the small of her back as they walked back to her car. "I'm a big boy. I've been entertaining myself for a long time now. You go talk about remains and stuff. I'll be fine."

She watched him for a moment as if she didn't quite believe him, then nodded. "Fine. The hotel is two blocks that way," she said, pointing down the street. "I can drop you off…"

"Naw, I'll walk, thanks."

"Tell the hotel clerk you're a friend of mine, he'll give you a discount," she told him as they reached her car.

He smiled down at her. "The perks of having a famous partner."

She rolled her eyes and stepped into the car. "I'll call you when I'm done."

"Sure," he replied, shutting her door gently and waiting while she rolled down the window. "We'll do dinner."

She nodded, put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.

The walk back to the hotel only took about ten minutes. Booth passed a hair salon, a couple of retail shops, a Chinese food restaurant, a book shop, and three or four office buildings. The hotel loomed up ahead of him, tall and imposing. Two cars were parked in its U-shaped drive, loading or unloading. Booth had parked his SUV around back in the garage. He made a quick detour to retrieve his bag as well as his gun and badge. He hated to admit it, but he felt a bit naked without them. He tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans, covering it with his shirt. The badge he slid into his back pocket.

He entered the lobby and headed for the desk. The young man behind it looked up as he approached and smiled.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"Hey, yeah, I'm a friend of Temperance Brennan's, she said you could help me find a room?"

The man's face broke into a grin. "You know Dr. Brennan? Oh, she's wonderful, isn't she? She's so smart and charming and beautiful."

Charming? Booth had never thought of Bones as charming, but then again…

The man behind the desk tapped away on his keyboard for a few moments, then his smile faded.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it appears that all of our rooms are occupied." He glanced up shyly, waiting for Booth's reaction.

"Occupied?" The man nodded. Well, it would have been easier if he could have a room in the same hotel as Bones, more opportunities to figure out what was up with her. Oh well, not much he could do about it. "Could you give me directions to the next closest hotel?"

"Um, well, there's only one more in town. Let me call and see if they have any openings."

They didn't. Nor did the either of the hotel in the next town, or the three in the towns beyond.

"I'm sorry, sir. There's some kind of Anthropology convention in town. Everyone's here to see Dr. Brennan and hear her speak."

Booth stared at the guy. "You telling me that six hotels worth of people are here to see Bones?"

"I'm sorry, sir? Bones?"

Booth shook his head. "Never mind."

"There's also a comic convention in the next town over, and we're big on tourists during the summer," the man continued.

Booth nodded, his mind not really on their conversation. No hotels, where was he going to stay. Then it hit him and a smile broke out across his face.

"You know what," he told the guy. "Why don't you just give me an extra key to Dr. Brennan's room. She said it would be fine if I stayed with her, I just didn't want to inconvenience her." He smiled self-deprecatingly.

The man looked torn. "Well, I mean, if Dr. Brennan were here…but I'm not really supposed to…"

"I'll make this a little easier on you, buddy," Booth said, reaching into his back jeans pocket for his badge. "I'm her partner." He laid his badge down on the counter and winked at the guy. "FBI business, you know."

The poor guy looked up at Booth in awe and nodded. "Of course."

"Great," Booth said, grabbing up his badge and sliding it back into his pocket. "The key, then?"

The man hardly blinked. He reached into a drawer in the counter and pulled out a key card. After checking the numbers against something on his screen, he handed the card to Booth.

"Thanks," Booth said, waving the card at him. "Really appreciate it."

The man nodded, scooping his chin up off the floor with some difficulty.

Booth turned and headed for the elevator with a chuckle. Time for round two of his favorite game, 'Rattle Temperance Brennan'.

* * *

Bones was starving again when she stepped out of the conference room and into the empty hallway at the university.

"How about dinner?"

She spun on her heel and stared incredulously into the face of Logan Hart.

"Are you attempting to make a joke?"

"That's what I love about you, Tempe, the complete inability to use sarcasm."

Oh she knew all about sarcasm now that she'd been working with Booth for awhile. She just didn't want to encourage Logan now that she had a solution to her problem. She hadn't exactly outright lied, but she might have _insinuated_ to Logan that Booth was the boyfriend she'd been talking about.

"I already have plans, Logan."

"With your boyfriend?"

She nodded, not liking the smug grin still present on his face.

"What if I told you I'm not so sure that guy _was_ your boyfriend?"

She opened her mouth in indignation and a snort escaped.

"I'd tell you that you were sadly mistaken and to kindly step aside so that I might leave."

He took a step towards her instead, his green eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Prove it."

She'd been attempting to push past him, but at that her eyes snapped back to his and she stared.

"Excuse me?"  
"You heard me. Prove it to me that he's your boyfriend."

God, she wanted to smack that smile right off his pretty face….Maybe she would…

"Tempe?"

"How exactly do you expect me to prove to you that he's my boyfriend?"

He stepped forward until she could feel his breath on her temple. He ran a hand down her shoulder to her hand. She quickly pulled her hand away and stepped back out of his reach.

"Introduce us," he said.

"Wha…I…you…"

"It's not that hard. Logan, this is my boyfriend, insert name here. Boyfriend, this is Logan, my old college lover."

"We weren't…"

"We were."

She glared up at him, two seconds away from punching him in the nose.

"It doesn't matter now. That was a long time ago."

"Not so long ago," he replied softly.

"Move out of my way, Logan, or I might not be able to restrain myself."

That smooth, lady-killer smile crept back into place. "From what? Making sweet love to me right here in the anthropology wing?"

She leaned forward and said in a low, dangerous voice, "From breaking your nose."

He stared back at her for a moment before bursting out with laughter. "That's hilarious, Tempe. That really is very cute…"

She reached forward, grabbed his arm and twisted, using his own body's momentum to throw him behind her.

"Hilarious," she quipped over her shoulder as she walked away.

* * *

Damnit, not now, just please, not now. Temperance turned the key in the ignition one more time and was rewarded with a low, sick gurgling sound before it died completely once again.

"Damnit," she growled, slamming her hand down on the steering wheel.

There was a light tap at her window, and her head snapped up. Staring past her own reflection, she was able to make out Logan's grinning face.

"Damnit," she said one more time, before cracking the door open.

"What do you want, Logan?"

He shrugged carelessly as if she hadn't just tossed him across a hall like a sack

of grain.

"Thought you might want a ride back to your hotel."

She shook her head, completely baffled by his sheer determination.

"I'll be fine Logan, thanks. I was just about to call my…boyfriend."

She flipped her phone open and nearly groaned when she saw that there was no service.

"Damnit," she let out once more.

"What's the matter, Tempe? Your boyfriend too busy for you?"

She grumbled under her breath, wondering what it would take to make him just give up and go away. Clearly physical harm hadn't worked. Maybe she could damage his ego. Booth was always saying that men were mostly ego. But first, she needed a phone that worked so she could call Booth to pick her up. Damn rental car.

"My phone doesn't have service. Could I use yours?"

He looked thoughtful. He tapped the side of his nose twice before he regarded her with a grin.

"You know what, I don't think I have it on me. Guess I'll just have to drive you back to the hotel after all."

She had to close her eyes briefly and count to ten so that she wouldn't resort to violence again. Then she grabbed her purse from the seat next to her, stood up, and shut and locked her car.

"Fine, but then you're leaving, because I have to get ready for my date."

He nodded smugly. "Sure, Tempe, whatever you say."

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's a short chapter, but I wanted to get _something_ out. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! Don't forget to let me know what you thought, or give any suggestions for where to go from here!


	4. Of Introductions and Interrogations

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4 (the current episode)

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has read or reviewed this story; you have no idea how much your input means to me. I'm pretty sure I've finally got the rest of the story planned out, so I'm not quite flying by the seat of my pants anymore. Thanks to everyone who made suggestions on how to continue the story. Six more days until the next new episode! Until then…

* * *

God bless American television. Six hundred channels and still nothing Booth was interested in watching. He'd tuned in to a wrestling match for awhile, but the blatant fakeness had really annoyed the hell out of him, even if the babes _were_ extremely hot. After that, he'd tried to get into a documentary on the Arc of the Covenant; a sitcom about some incompetent if not hilarious doctors; and a vampire show whose main character Booth had to admit was a pretty impressive actor.

He groaned as he switched the TV off and rolled to his feet.

He was pacing the living room, trying to decide what to do next, when he heard a small commotion from outside the door.

Huh, nothing like someone else's drama to keep him occupied until Bones got back, right?

He moved to the door and put his eye to the peephole. At first, he saw nothing. Until he realized that it was because the commotion was occurring directly outside this room. He tipped his head slowly until two bodies came into view.

A blonde guy in grey slacks and a white button-down shirt had a woman pinned up against the wall beside the door.

Booth chuckled. Looked like someone couldn't wait the twenty or so feet it would take to get to their room.

The laugh died a quick death when the guy moved his head to the other side and the woman's face was revealed.

It was Bones.

And, God, the guy was Blondie from the university. The one Booth had thought she was fighting with. Probably they'd just been making plans for later. Like now.

Booth pulled back from the door and took a deep breath.

_Breathe, Seeley. You can deal with this. Bones has dated before. None of them ever last long. Blondie will be history by the time you leave Vermont. And until then, the inconvenience of sharing a room with her partner will keep Bones from…_Booth felt a burning blush creep up his throat even though he was alone.

He heard the murmur of voices through the wall. He couldn't make out words, but for some reason Bones sounded annoyed. Well, good. Maybe Blondie had done something stupid and this ill-conceived relationship would end before it really began.

_You don't know when it began. They could have been screwing like rabbits before you even…_

He was a masochist. That was the only explanation for why Booth was still standing here listening to his partner be seduced by some dumbass professor, all the while contemplating just how long they'd been fucking each other while he was home in D.C. missing her.

He heard the beep that indicated that a keycard had been inserted into the door, then the click of the lock disengaging. He very briefly contemplated grabbing his things and vacating the premises. Maybe he could slip out around the busy couple before they even noticed his presence.

In the past, he might have done just that, but Seeley Booth was tired of sitting idly by while his partner fished for love and acceptance amongst the world's worst scoundrels.

It wasn't exactly a secret that Temperance Brennan was generally a poor judge of character. That fact pretty much always came back to bite her in regards to her love life. Booth had lost count of the number of losers she'd dated. And every time they left her, or something happened and she was forced to see the error of her judgments. And every time her doubts were reaffirmed; everybody leaves, men are only out to satisfy biological urges, love is simply a series of chemical reactions and some equally as ridiculous scientific babble. And every single time Booth was left to pick up the pieces, to chip away at the wall that she'd begun to rebuild around herself; the wall he'd carefully and patiently been destroying since he'd met her.

Well, not this time.

The door opened and instead of forcing out an apology and slipping out of the room, Booth stepped forward and allowed a wide smile to grace his features.

Bones had her back to him, a hand on Blondie's chest.

"Logan, really, you need to…"

Blondie spotted Booth and a small smile appeared on his own face. He cleared his throat.

Bones hadn't moved from the doorway. She still had her hands on the idiot's chest.

"Uh, Tempe," Blondie started.

"Logan, please…"

Oh, God, she wasn't begging, was she? Bones should never have to beg for anything, especially not… Booth couldn't even contemplate the thought. He cleared his throat.

Bones spun around and the shock in her eyes would have been comical if Blondie hadn't been standing there smirking.

"Heya, Bones," Booth said with his best charm smile.

"I…you…"

Oh, yes. This was going much better than he'd anticipated. Speechless Bones. If she wasn't rattled, Booth was sure he didn't know what was.

Booth ignored Bones and stuck his hand out to Blondie.

"What's up? I'm her…"

"Seeley," he heard Bones say and his voice faltered. She very rarely called him by his given name. "This is Seeley," she told Blondie.

"Seeley, huh?" The guy said. "That's a different name. I'm Logan Hart."

"Old family name," Booth shrugged. "Good to meet you. Bones tells me you two went to school together?"

Bones had taken a step back by now, her hands falling from Hart's chest. The fact that she was keeping quiet while the men conversed told Booth that she was pretty uncomfortable.

Hart chuckled softly. "Bones, huh? Because she works with bones, right?"

For some reason, the fact that the guy had figured that out on his own annoyed Booth. Most people had to have it explained to them.

Booth gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Yeah," Hart nodded. "We, uh, we dated some in grad school."

Meaning they'd slept together.

Bones took a deep breath like she was about to speak, but Booth beat her to it.

"Well, thanks so much for making sure she got home safely, there Hart. But I've got it from here."

"Oh, I thought maybe…"

Bones finally seemed to come back to herself. "Good evening, Logan. I assume I'll see you soon?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Alright then," Bones said with a smile. "I hate to kick you out, but Seeley and I have a lot to discuss."

And wasn't that the truth. Booth was sure he was in for the verbal ass-kicking to beat all verbal ass-kickings. Hell, maybe she'd throw in a little _actual_ ass-kicking just to mix things up a bit. Forget the fact that he had screwed up her date, he'd also broken into her hotel room and was planning on staying.

"Uh, yeah, okay. Goodnight then."

Bones hardly even waited for him to finish his statement before she was shutting the door in his face.

"Bones, I…"

She held up a hand to silence him and fitted her eye over the peephole in the door. She watched for a few moments, probably making sure Hart was really gone, before she rounded on him with a glare.

"Why are you here, Booth?"

He took a step towards her, fully aware that he probably looked like a predator stalking his prey.

"_Seeley_, huh?"

"Booth…"

"What is that guy to you?"

Her mouth opened in unrestrained indignation.

"_That_ is none of your business. Now, why are you in my hotel room?"

"How come you didn't introduce me as your partner?"

She stopped retreating, put her hands on her hips, and cocked her head to the side.

"Maybe because he already knows that. I told him earlier."

He took another step towards her, bringing them dangerously close. She didn't back away. "In the lecture hall?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't tell him my name?"  
She faltered for a moment, blinking up at him a few times, and he knew that the next thing out of her lips would be a lie.

"No. I just told him that you were my partner and you were here to see me speak."

He nodded slowly, knowing that calling her on her lie at this point would not further his investigation any. He was fairly certain Hart had some part in why he was here. He just wasn't sure what part that was yet. Or even why he was here, for that matter.

"I didn't, _however_, tell him that you were staying with me," Bones said through her teeth. "Mostly because I didn't _know_ you were staying with me."

Booth forced a smirk and walked around her to flop back down in the sofa. "Sorry to ruin your fun, Bones, but there wasn't a room available for three towns."

"You didn't…You know what, never mind." With that, she huffed off to the bedroom, throwing over her shoulder, "You'll sleep on the couch, of course. And order some dinner while I change, I'm starved."

Booth smiled to himself as he reached for the drawer beside the couch where he'd found some takeout menus earlier.

No tongue lashing, no physical violence, and Bones was even still open to eating dinner with him. Things were certainly looking up.

* * *

Temperance leaned back against her closed bedroom door with a sigh of relief. She was pretty sure Booth had believed her story. He probably assumed that she and Logan were sleeping together, and that was fine with her. His presence here this evening had just solidified her claim to Logan that Booth was her boyfriend.

She went to the drawers where she'd unpacked her belongings and grabbed a pair of soft, navy blue yoga pants. She folded the trousers she'd been wearing and placed them on the chair by her bed, then slipped into the sweats.

Booth being here had been positive in more ways than one. She'd been so distracted by lust out there in the hallway that she'd nearly just allowed Logan into her room and been done with it. It wasn't that she liked him much, or at all really, but he was a good-looking man, well-built, nicely proportioned, and he had been a fine lover in college.

His soft lips had been caressing her own, his tongue slipping in and out sensuously and she'd nearly thrown caution to the wind and invited him in. At the last second, just before she'd slipped her keycard into the slot, her mind had slipped back to a month prior, and the betrayal that Jared Booth had committed. He'd made her think less of Seeley Booth, and that wasn't a crime that she could take lightly. She had no idea where the thought had come from, but it had led to another memory; the speech she'd given at Booth's birthday party about Alpha males and how Seeley Booth, even though he was humble and self-sacrificing, was the very essence of one. She'd remembered her promise that she would never again be distracted by shiny baubles, and she'd recognized Logan Hart for what he was; an arrogant, self-centered, too-determined fool whose colorful plumage and shiny baubles had very nearly ensnared her. She'd been trying to force him out of her hotel room and hopefully out of her life when Booth had made himself known.

Temperance replaced her silk blouse with a white, long-sleeved t-shirt, and slid her feet into fluffy white socks. She removed the necklace she'd put on earlier, and released her hair from the bun she'd eventually twisted it into. Then she took another deep breath and exited the bedroom, ready to deal with Booth and any questions he might have left to ask her.

"Comfy?" He asked, glancing up from the sofa, a soft smile tilting his lips up at the corners. "I ordered Chinese, that okay?"

She nodded. "That's fine."

He patted the cushion next to him and she moved to sit there.

"It should be here soon," he told her, then turned his attention back to the program he'd been watching.

She continued to stare at him. He was too relaxed, too unconcerned. Why wasn't he continuing his interrogation? Why wasn't he trying to convince her of how big a jerk Logan surely was? Why was he just sitting there watching television like he had not a care in the world?

"You okay?" He asked, not taking his eyes from the TV.

"What?"

"You're just sitting there staring at me," he said. He glanced away from the show briefly and their eyes caught and held. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no. I'm fine."

He watched her for a few moments with eyes that always seemed to see right through any charade she decided to pull. If he noticed anything amiss, he didn't comment. Finally, he turned back to his show and Temperance was released from the hold his dark eyes had taken on her.

She tried to absorb herself in his program, but her mind was spinning endlessly. Did Booth suspect what was going on? Had he been here on purpose just now, to trick Logan as she had planned to do? To get the other man to back off? If so, then why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't he turned to her with a smug grin and said something like, _'You're welcome, Bones. I'm glad I fix your little problem for you.'_?

She thought she knew Booth fairly well having worked with him for four years now, but she had absolutely no idea what was going through his mind at this moment. She wished she had his talent with people. She wished he'd stop ignoring her like he wasn't fully aware of the turmoil currently occupying her brain.

She was saved from either having to break the silence or go mad by the knock on the door. She stood and crossed the room, Booth hot on her heels. She had the door open and was reaching for her purse on the sideboard when Booth's hand sneaked around her and he handed the delivery boy a bunch of bills. The kid thanked Booth, handed her the bag of food, and was off down the hall.

"Booth, I was going to…"

"I know, Bones."

She spun around to glare at him, but he simply took the food from her and headed for the small kitchenette.

"You can get it next time, okay?"

"But, you paid for lunch," she protested. She was used to his chivalrous ways by now, but that didn't mean that she had to like them.

"Just let it go, Bones."

She glanced down at her empty hands. "Let what go, Booth? I'm not holding anything."

He laughed that damned laugh that told her she was amusing him. "It's a figure of speech. It means, just forget about it, okay?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him as he opened containers.

"Mmmm, lookie here, Bones, fried dumplings."

And before she could so much as take a step back, he picked one up in his chopsticks and was holding it to her lips.

She opened her mouth to tell him that she was a gown woman and that she could feed herself, and he took the opportunity to slip the dumpling between her lips. She, of course, had no choice but to chew and swallow it. It _was_ rather delicious.

Booth smiled and handed her a pair of chopsticks and a tub of lo mien.

"Relax, Bones. I'll let you treat me to breakfast in the morning."

She rolled her eyes and dug into her noodles. She supposed her worries could wait just an hour or so. She was awfully hungry, after all.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought!


	5. Of Meddling Artists and Goodnight Kisses

* * *

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4, current episode

A/N: Thanks for all the fantastic reviews, as always! This one goes out to everyone who wanted to know when Booth would start to figure things out. He's not everyone's favorite FBI agent for nothing, is he? New episode tomorrow! I cannot wait! The circus, huh, I wonder how Booth will do with all the clowns?

On a side note: I just had to share this with someone who would appreciate it (my dad really didn't care much). I was watching season 1 the other day and I totally caught a screw-up (or at least what I saw as a screw-up). In the season 1 episode Man in the Morgue, there's a voodoo guy swinging a snake around some bodies, doing some good voodoo thing, and Bones goes over and wraps the snake around her hand and pets it and everything. Then, in the season 3 episode Mummy in the Maze she completely flips over the room full of snakes. So is she afraid of snakes or not? Was it just because there were so many of them? I'm way confused here… Anyways…

_

* * *

_

Booth smiled and handed her a pair of chopsticks and a tub of lo mien.

"_Relax, Bones. I'll let you treat me to breakfast in the morning."_

_She rolled her eyes and dug into her noodles. She supposed her worries could wait just an hour or so. She was awfully hungry, after all._

* * *

She was so beautiful sitting there in her sweatpants, eating lo mien like no one was watching. Granted, his Bones was always beautiful no matter what she was doing or what she was wearing. And the most attractive thing about her was that she didn't even know it.

Oh, she knew that her body was well-formed, and she was in great physical shape, and that her face was symmetrical. But she didn't really _know_.

She didn't know that the sun in her hair could make a man's breath catch. She didn't know that the sway of her hips and the curve of her breast brought about images of carnal release. She could never know that her smile tied a man's tongue in knots, her tears wrenched his heart from his chest, her hugs could be torture and sweet, divine intervention all in one.

She would never know, because he was the only one close enough to tell her without fearing bodily harm, and he never would. Because he would never risk losing her like that. And he surely would if he started saying things like that to her, because she feared attachment in the same way that he feared losing her. The emotional attachment she could ignore, but there was no way she would be able to ignore hearing him talk like that. And so he wouldn't. No, he'd rather see her on the arm of some bozo like Blondie…Hart, than not see her at all.

He shook his head to rid it of the image and blinked to bring her into focus.

"So, um, sorry again for ruining your plans for tonight."

She glanced up at him with that wide-eyed expression that told him she'd been concentrating deeply on something…probably Blondie.

"Oh, no. We didn't have plans," she replied simply.

"Oh, well, then…what was Hart here for?"

She waved a hand as if dismissing his question, then answered it anyway. "He drove me here. My car wouldn't start." She glanced up at him, her eyes narrowed. "I was going to call _you_ to pick me up, but there was no service."

He nearly laughed. She blamed him for poor cell phone reception. As if it was his fault Blondie had had to drive her home. In that moment, he put one piece of the puzzle that was Temperance Brennan together, and the clamp on his heart loosened considerably.

He gave a light chuckle and couldn't resist raising his hand to his ear, pinky and thumb extended, in the universal sign for telephone.

"Can you hear me now?" He asked with a grin.

She frowned and an adorable little line creased between her brows.

"Of course I can hear you, Booth, you're sitting right next to me."

He shook his head. "Yeah, um, never mind."

"But…"

"How about we drive over to the school tomorrow morning and I'll take a look at the car for you?" He asked, ignoring her attempts to interrupt him.

She shook her head. "Thanks, but I called the rental company on the way over here. They're sending someone out in the morning." She glanced up at him. "I was hoping you'd bring me to the university tomorrow. I can find a ride back in the evening."

He set his empty food cartons on the coffee table and leaned closer to her.

"Bones, tomorrow is Saturday. You are not spending the whole day in a stuffy classroom."

She raised a hand as if she might push him away. "Booth, I…"

"There won't even be any students there for you to lecture to."

Her hand dropped back to her lap, but her eyes remained steely. "Some of the professors in the Anthropology department are getting together to discuss the latest find in Indonesia…"

"Call and tell them you're sick or something. There is no way you're…"

"Well, they never actually said I _had_ to be there. I just thought it would be intriguing to hear their opinions on…"

Booth rolled his eyes and grunted, "intriguing," under his breath. Then he took her empty food cartons from her and placed them next to his on the table.

"Excellent. No university. Tomorrow, Bones, you and I are going to take in the sights."

"Take them in where?"

Booth ignored her. "We'll get an early start, grab breakfast on the way, get there in time for…"

"Booth, I promised Dr. Loughlin that I would meet with him and a couple of his students briefly in the morning to discuss a research project. I really can't…"

Booth glared.

Bones looked thoughtful for a moment before she gave a small sigh. "It should only take about a half an hour, then we can…"

He clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly, a silly grin on his face.

"Great. Half an hour. Then you're mine."

"I'm…"

Her tirade was thankfully interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone. She stared at him.

"Well?" She asked, waving her hand at the phone on his belt.

"Mine's on vibrate," he said. He very seldom turned his phone off vibrate. It was much easier to avoid detection when your phone wasn't blasting off annoying rap songs every few minutes.

"Oh," she gasped and jumped up to search through her purse.

"Brennan," she said once she'd located the thing and flipped it open. "Oh, hi, Ange. Yeah, I'm fine."

Booth smiled to himself and stood from the couch. He leaned down close to Brennan's ear and said in a not-quite-whisper, "I'm going to go get a shower."

She turned to him with an accusing glare as a squeal erupted from over the phone line. Well, hell, if Angela wanted to play one of her matchmaking games, he wasn't about to disappoint her. Because he was sure that's what this little escapade was about. There was obviously no imminent threat to his partner.

"Of course I have a man here, Angela, you sent him here," Bones said in exasperation. "And I have to say, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I called you for advice."

Ah, so she had asked Angela for help with something. Booth's superior investigative skills told him that Hart was at the epicenter of her problem. And he was pretty sure that a hot shower was just what he needed to figure it all out.

He grinned and waved to Bones, then slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.

* * *

"Angela, why did you send Booth here? I don't need his help with anything," Bones complained, going into the bedroom and shutting the door.

She set her pillows up against the headboard and sat back on the bed.

"Sweetie, Booth is just the type of help you need in a situation like this. You can't tell me that you haven't already taken advantage of his being there. I bet your little admirer is already under the impression that that piece of F.B. Eye candy is your boyfriend."

Temperance groaned at the accuracy in her friend's words. "I could have taken care of it on my own."

"But you don't have to," Angela said. "The minute Booth heard you needed him, he was programming his GPS for your hotel. Sweetie…"

"Angela, this isn't Booth's problem. And there is absolutely no way to twist this to make it an FBI matter. It was unfair of me to use him like that. Maybe I should just tell him what's going on and…"

"Don't you dare do that," Angela admonished. "If he's going to figure it out, he'll do it on his own."

Temperance ran a hand back through her hair, an uncharacteristic action for her. "But Angela…"

"No, Sweetie. Booth would do anything for you. Just let him help you on this, okay? Let him be there for you."

"Because he's my partner?"

Angela laughed softly. "If you're that naïve, then yes."

"I'm not…"

"I'm gonna go, Bren. You call me and let me know if anything exciting happens, okay?"

"Sure, Angela. But I'm not naïve."

"Okay, Sweetie. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Angela."

Temperance flipped her phone shut and set it down gently on the table next to her bed.

God, things were so not going as planned. She'd just wanted Angela to tell her how to get rid of Logan. She hadn't expected her best friend to send Booth up here. What was she going to tell him? She'd been avoiding the topic since he got here, but she was sure she couldn't do that forever. Would he be mad if he knew she had lied to him? Oh, who was she kidding? He was a highly skilled FBI agent, he was probably fully aware of the fact that she had been lying.

Would he think her weak for not being able to take care of Logan on her own? Well, it wasn't exactly that she couldn't take care of him, it was just that she was trying lately to seem less cold and distant, more human if you will. Telling Logan off and completely ignoring him for the next week was not conducive to seeming more human. Would Booth understand that? Or would he think her the proverbial "damsel in distress", in need of rescuing? Oh, that would play _right_ into his alpha male fantasies.

Temperance sighed as she snuggled deeper into the pillows.

It would be best just to tell him. She would make him understand her viewpoint. He would eventually forgive her for lying. As his partner, she owed it to him to tell him the truth now. And then he could help her really get rid of Logan. Yes, that would be best. She'd tell him the truth. But maybe she'd do it tomorrow, while they were "taking in the sights". Yes, he'd be much more relaxed then, easygoing. Yes, that would be a good time to tell him. She smiled to herself as she imagined his reaction when she told him that she needed his help getting rid of a man. God, he was going to love this. He'd never let her live this one down.

* * *

So, Hart was at the center of the problem, Booth thought as he allowed the hot water to stream over his face and down his chest. He almost laughed. To have a man be the thing that his Bones needed help with was just too ironic. Bones _never_ needed help with men. She could take a grown man down almost as well as he could, no doubt about that. And no way would she ever ask for advice on anything else to do with a man. Well, she wouldn't ask him anyway. Which he was more than okay with; he did not want to know any more about her relationships with guys than she forced on him.

He cringed as he thought back two years to her relationship with Sully. God, that had been awful. And then to have her _tell_ him that she had slept with the other man; like he was her best girl friend instead of her FBI partner, and they should squeal about it and compare notes. God, it wasn't like he was Angela.

He scrubbed the soap roughly over is body and let the beating water rinse it away.

_Focus, Seeley. Quit it with the trips down memory lane. Sully is gone, and she stayed here. With you. _

He shook his head in disgust. She hadn't stayed for him. Temperance Brennan rarely did anything _for_ anyone else. She had stayed because she wasn't ready to leave. She had a job and a life she loved in D.C. and she hadn't been ready to just leave it all. Nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.

But she did need him now. He was sure of it. Oh, she would never admit it, but he was her partner, her friend, and he knew her better than anyone. The threat wasn't physical, he knew that, but she was out of her element, and the fact that she hadn't explained things to him and sent him away told him that she knew she needed him.

Hart was the issue, and Booth was pretty sure he knew what the problem was. An ex-boyfriend, obviously still interested. Bones introducing him by his first name instead of as her partner. He knew he was being used and yet he couldn't muster up the energy to care. If she needed him, Bones could use him any time she liked. God, that sounded bad, but he meant it with all his heart. He couldn't stand the thought of her alone and hurting and thinking she couldn't come to him. He was glad Angela had called him, meddling artist or not.

Booth shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, snagging a too-small hotel towel from the wrack above the toilet. Ritzy hotel like this, you'd think they could splurge on a towel that actually wrapped all the way around him. He couldn't have been the only well-built male to stay at this place. He doubted these things would even cover Bones, and she was by no means a large woman. And that thought almost had him stepping back into the shower and turning the cold water on full blast. Bones _in_ a towel was bad enough. His traitorous mind needed to _not_ picture her half _out_ of a towel.

He dried off quickly and stepped into the sweatpants he'd brought with him into the bathroom.

He opened the door and peeked out. No Bones. She was probably still in her room gabbing with Angela. Probably reaming the artist a new one for sending him here. He let out a soft chuckle and moved to her bedroom door.

An ear to the door revealed silence, so he knocked gently. When there was no reply, he brought his hand up to the knob and turned. A quick peek in revealed his partner, propped up against the headboard, fast asleep. He shook his head, a silly grin all over his face. That was his Temperance, working herself to the bone and collapsing where she sat.

He moved into the room silently and approached the bed. With utmost care, dreading the second she shot awake, he pulled back the covers on the bed. Watching her carefully, he tugged gently until he had her lying down, her pillow under her head. His senses were alert, waiting for her to wake up and attack him, but she didn't, simply snuggled deeper into the pillow with a sigh.

It wasn't until he pulled the blanket up over her that she stirred. Her eyes didn't open, but her nose wrinkled and murmured, "Booth?" under her breath.

He froze.

"Yeah, Bones, it's just me. You fell asleep sitting up. I was tucking you in."

"Mmm," she hummed, rolling over onto her stomach. "Thanks…Still sleeping on the couch." And then she was out.

Booth laughed softly. "Of course, Bones. I'm still sleeping on the couch."

He couldn't resist. Without giving himself time to think, he leaned down and placed a light kiss on her forehead. She didn't stir. Thank God.

He straightened up and headed to the door, flicking off the light on his way out. He took one last look at his sleeping partner, then closed the door behind him.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for reading! I promise, there will be more action and excitement in the next chapter. And maybe a confrontation or two. Please let me know what you thought!


	6. Of Heroes and Cowboys

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4, the current episode.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing, you guys are fantastic. This one goes out to everyone who had to put up with Mr. Bush's babble on Thursday instead of seeing another episode of Bones. Ah well, we'll have a double feature this week. Popcorn, anyone?

* * *

"You want to research what?"

Temperance stared across the room at the twenty-something grad student and had to struggle to regulate her breathing.

"Cannibalistic tendencies in Westernized societies," the young man said.

"And you want to interview me on this subject? You should know that I have no expertise in this area of anthropology. I could tell you if…"

"But, Dr. Brennan, wasn't your lab assistant…" he glanced down at a small notepad on his lap, "…Zachariah Addy, involved in that controversial case with the cannibal and the Gormogon artifacts."

Temperance opened her mouth to answer him, then snapped it closed. How could he know about that?

"It was big news in the anthropology and science worlds. World renowned forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan loses lab assistant to the charm of a cannibal killer." The kid grinned as if he'd made up the headline all on his own.

"He wasn't a lab assistant. He had finished his doctorate. He was a colleague," Temperance managed to say. "And I…I won't discuss that."

Dr. Loughlin opened his mouth as if to speak, but Temperance cut him off.

"It is a fine research topic, and I'd be happy to point you in the direction of a specialist in that field, but I will not discuss...that."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan, I understand, but…"

"I have to go," she said quickly. "I have plans for the rest of the afternoon. Will you make my apologies to the rest of the professors? I can't make it to the meeting this afternoon."

"Yes, yes, of course," Dr. Loughlin stuttered. "You have a very nice afternoon, Dr. Brennan."

Temperance nodded and moved towards the door.

Before she could reach it, the grad student glanced up and said in an offhand manner, "Thank you for your time, Ms. Brennan."

She almost corrected him. She was proud of her degree and she made a point of making sure everyone was aware of it. But the sudden need to be out of that room and away from their prying eyes was overwhelming.

She walked the hallway to the nearest ladies' room and shut herself inside. She stood in front of the wall to wall mirror and blinked back tears. _Oh, Zach._ She didn't think she'd ever get over that particular betrayal. Not that it had been his fault; it had been more hers. She wet a paper towel and ran it across her hot eyes, sucked in a fortifying breath, and went to find Booth. She'd put Zach out of her mind and enjoy the day with her partner.

* * *

Bones had just headed off to her meeting, leaving him to pace a large sitting area located directly across from the hall she'd given her speech in the day before.

Today was going to be great, he thought, rubbing his hands together in an anticipatory manner. He'd get Bones out of her labs and classrooms and lecture halls, and out into the real world. He'd make sure she had fun today. He'd put that idiot Hart right out of her pretty little head.

As if lured by Booth's thoughts, Logan Hart chose that moment to waltz into the room.

He spotted Booth and stopped just inside the doorway. His eyes moved quickly over Booth, as if assessing a threat and cataloguing the best way to deal with it.

Booth's eyes remained firmly on Hart's. He didn't need to assess. This guy was a self-absorbed anthropology professor. Ha. Booth could take him with both arms tied behind his back; not that he expected to have to.

"Seeley," Hart nodded, finally stepping further into the room.

"Hart."

"You're here with Tempe?"

Booth nodded, and watched Hart move towards the coffee machine in the corner. Bad move, bucko, never leave your back exposed to the enemy.

"She's meeting with Dr. Loughlin and some of his students."

Hart nodded and pressed the button for a French Vanilla Latte. Fucking pansy.

"Are you teaching a class today?" Booth asked, taking a few steps closer to the other man. He was going to solve this mystery once and for all, and that would be the end of it.

"Uh, no, not exactly."

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"Right," Booth responded, taking a seat at the small, scarred table. Maybe if he looked less threatening, Hart would give something away.

"I'm here for the meeting later with the other anthropology professors. Tempe said she'd be there. I was hoping to speak to her before-hand."

Booth nodded. "Of course. Well, Temperance has decided not to attend. I've made plans for us today. I haven't seen her in awhile," he said with a smirk. "You can understand."

Hart finally turned to face him. "I can." He nodded, a much bigger smirk on his own face. "Tempe makes an impression. It's hard to let her go for long."

Booth's eyes narrowed. Just as he'd suspected, Hart was harboring thoughts that he might be able to get Bones back. Well, this was the guy's unlucky day.

"Oh, I'd never let her go," Booth said in a quiet voice. "So I'll never have to experience that."

Hart nodded and sat opposite him at the table.

"I'm sure she told you that we went on a couple of dates before you showed up."

If Hart was trying to get to him, he sure as hell was going to be disappointed. Not that the thought of Bones with this creep wasn't wearing on his last nerve, but he'd never let Blondie here know that.

"Temperance tells me everything. Although, I was under the impression that they were friendly get-togethers, rather than dates."

"Of course," Hart nodded, a grin spreading over his face. The dimples that were revealed made Booth want to punch his lights out. "So, um, how long have you two been dating?"

"Two years," Booth lied, thinking that it could have been true if not for his insistence on that stupid, completely necessary line.

"That long, huh? You thought about marriage?"

Booth tipped his head, allowing his genuine feelings to cross his face. "I have. But you know Temperance and marriage."

Hart nodded and laughed like he understood, but Booth was sure he didn't. What reason would Bones have had back in college to be discussing marriage with this loser?

"Listen," Booth said, leaning forward so that only a small amount of space separated him from Blondie. "Your constant flirting and innuendos are starting to bug my Temperance, not to mention you're wearing on my last nerve," he said with a chuckle. "I'm going to ask you nicely to leave her alone from now on."

Hart watched him for a moment, then leaned back and regarded him cautiously. "Or?"

Booth nodded and pursed his lips together. "Or I'll let her have at you." Hart looked a bit surprised by that answer, so Booth finished in a low whisper. "And believe me, you won't like it."

Hart was gaping like a fish when Booth heard rushed footsteps in the hallway and glanced up in time to see Bones stumble through the door. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. She'd been crying, damn it. What the hell had happened now?

She glanced from Booth to Hart and back again. She looked so perplexed and maybe a little nervous.

Booth took pity on her, rising from his seat and moving across the room to her. Before she could protest, he slid an arm around her shoulders and tucked her in close to his side. When he was sure Hart had turned to look at them, he leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her soft, auburn hair.

"Temperance," he murmured softly.

She looked up at him, her eyes questioning.

"Seeley?"

Booth nodded fractionally.

"You ready to head out, Bones?"

Hart finally picked his chin up off the floor and stood to walk towards them. He ignored Booth completely and focused in on Bones.

"Bones?" He said softly. "He uses that name like another man might use an endearment, like Baby or Sweetheart. Doesn't it annoy you?"

Before Bones could answer that, yes, it annoyed the hell out of her; Booth cleared his throat, brining Blondie's attention back to him.

"Temperance is nobody's baby. Bones is what she is, it's what she does. She uses those bones to make a difference in the world. She gives people a name and a voice long after anyone else could. It sounds like an endearment because it is one."

With that, he hugged Bones closer and turned them both towards the door.

"Tempe, wait." Bones looked over her shoulder at the man behind them. "Have dinner with me tonight?"

Booth heard Bones gasp in righteous indignation before she turned away from Blondie without a word and marched out of the room, Booth not losing a step beside her.

"What's wrong?" He asked her once they were out in the parking lot, making their way to his SUV.

"Nothing," she replied quickly. Too quickly. "I'm fine."

He unlocked the car and helped her in, then stepped into the space between her and the door, refusing to let her close it.

"Booth…"

"Bones, you were crying."

She opened her mouth, but Booth rushed on.

"Don't lie to me Bones, I think you've done enough of that already."

She blinked twice, then her eyes moved down to watch her hands twisting in her lap.

"How did you know?"

He caught her chin in his hand and pulled her up to look at him.

"Bones, I'm FBI, remember? It's my job to recognize a lie and drag out the truth. Even from my own partner. Why didn't you tell me that Hart was bothering you?"

Her eyes lit with anger and she pulled her chin from his grasp.

"It was none of your business. I could have handled it on my own."

He smiled gently in the face of her rage.

"Not without ending up in jail."

Her mouth popped open, but he ignored her.

"I have no doubt that you could have handled it, Temperance, but you didn't have to. I'm here now, and it isn't a big deal, okay? As you once told me, I'm your partner, just let me be your partner."

She rolled her eyes and he watched her relax fractionally. "It's not a partner's job to scare off an old boyfriend."

He smiled and chucked her gently under the chin. "It is if the ex-boyfriend is interfering in the partner's work, and upsetting her besides."

He closed her door and made his way around to the other side of the car. It wasn't until they were pulling out of the university's lot that Bones finally spoke.

"Thank you."

He placed a hand briefly on her knee. "No problem."

They were silent again until they reached the highway.

"Dr. Loughlin's student wants to research cannibals in Western societies." She glanced over at him and their eyes caught for the briefest moment. He saw pain there. Again, he reached over and squeezed her leg gently. "He wanted to interview me about Zach."

Booth pulled in a deep breath before he spoke. "What did you say?" He asked gently.

"Well, I told him I wouldn't," she gasped out as if Booth had suggested she should give them a regular ole' expose. "I couldn't."

"Shhh," he said, taking her hand into his. "I know, Bones. I know. It was very rude of them to ask."

She nodded quickly. "Of course, it was."

"You okay?"

She nodded again. "I'm fine."

"Good. Because we're going to have fun today, and I don't want old drudged up memories interfering."

She slipped her hand free from his and leaned forward in her seat to peer out the windshield.

"Where exactly are we going anyway?"

He shot her a charm smile and focused back on the road. "Patience, Bones. Patience."

It wasn't until the signs with the little smiling teddy bears started appearing that Bones finally let out a knowing groan.

"Teddy bears, Booth? Really?"

"Teddy bears, Bones," he said with a smile.

"We're adults, Booth. Why are we going to a Teddy Bear Factory?"

He shook his head as he pulled into the lot and took in the huge brightly colored building. "It'll be fun, Bones. C'mon."

He put the SUV in park and turned to his disgruntled partner. "We'll take the tour and learn the history. You'll like that, Bones, you love histories. It'll be a real anthropological experience."

She rolled her eyes at him and opened her door to get out.

He jumped out of the SUV and hurried around to her.

"Then, we can pick out some teddy bears."

He knew he probably looked like a kid in a candy shop at the thought, but he just couldn't help it.

"I don't need a teddy bear, Booth. I stopped liking stuffed animals a long time ago."

Booth placed a hand at the small of her back and ushered her through the crowded parking lot to the door.

"Not for you, Bones. I thought I might get one for Parker."

She glanced up at him, a surprised look on her face. "Oh. Oh, yes, of course."

She was silent until they were in line to take the tour of the facility.

"Perhaps I could choose a couple for Amy's girls."

Booth couldn't help but move his arm to her waist and give her a squeeze. "I think they'd really like that, Bones."

* * *

The tour actually was rather amusing. She heard a lot of things she'd already known; teddy bears had been named such after President Teddy Roosevelt, for instance. It was interesting to see the way they put the bears together, also. It was the jokes that annoyed her. She didn't understand any of them.

The tour guides kept making silly remarks, all with the word 'bear' in them. They'd place a piece of furry fabric on their feet and remark that they had 'bear' feet. They'd joke about mismatched teddy bear pieces. And every time she turned to Booth with confusion on her face, he'd simply grin at her and shake his head. Finally, she started ignoring the jokes altogether.

The teddy bear showroom was what she imagined every small child's heaven looked like. Bears of various shapes, sizes, and shades adorned every wall, from floor to ceiling. Their attire ranged from that of a baseball player to what Booth explained to her was a Diva—"like Britney Spears," he'd said, then laughed at her perplexed look.

There were teddy bears no bigger than her hand, teddy bears that would fit nicely in a six-year-old's arms, and teddy bears that were almost as large as Booth. Temperance loved those the most. She imagined that they would be nice to snuggle next to in bed, then chastised herself for such childish thoughts.

"Wow, that one is huge," Booth remarked, sidling up next to her.

"It is, but I imagine Parker would like one that he would be able to carry around," she replied, leading him towards a wall of smaller bears. "This one is nice," she said, holding up a brown bear dressed as a cowboy.

"It is," Booth remarked with a nod. "But I'm not sure how Parker feels about cowboys right now. He was learning about the Native Americans in school right before summer vacation started and I think he's still pretty mad at the cowboys for taking their land."

Temperance opened her mouth to correct him. "Actually…"

"Forget it, Bones. No factual interludes today. Today is all about fun." He turned her in the direction of a wall covered in all degrees of pink and purple and white sparkles. "Why don't you go see what you can find for the girls?"

She narrowed her eyes at him briefly before following his suggestion.

There were angels and princesses and cheerleaders and hundreds of other bears Temperance couldn't even begin to describe.

Temperance reached up and pulled down a snow-white bear in a ballerina costume. Russ had said that Emma had started ballet classes last fall. She fingered one little pink bow in the bear's white tulle skirt.

"Very nice, Bones," Booth whispered in her ear, making her jump.

She turned to face him. "Emma's been taking ballet classes," she explained.

"It's perfect, Bones."

"What did you find for Parker?"

He pulled his arm out from behind his back and revealed a caramel colored bear in a blue, red, and gold super hero costume.

She felt a wide grin break out across her face.

"He'll love it, Booth."

"You think?" He asked, glancing down at the bear affectionately.

"I do."

He nodded once, his smile devastating, then turned her back towards the wall she'd been studying.

"So, we need one for Hayley now, right?"

She nodded.

He surveyed the wall with her for a few moments before reaching past her and taking down a black bear in a purple dress. He turned the bear around and Temperance noticed the small, white fairy wings on its back.

"A good wishes fair," Booth said, reading the tag.

Temperance took the bear from his hand and held it up in front of her.

"Yes," she said with a nod. "Yes, it's perfect."

* * *

They stopped for dinner on the way back to the hotel, and it was nearly 7:30 by the time they got back.

"I had a fun day," Bones remarked as they hopped out of the SUV and made their way to the front entrance.

He watched her, her hands filled with the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory boxes, complete with little air holes. Her eyes were light with joy, and her beautiful face was stretched wide in a grin. She was devastating his senses.

"I'm glad, Bones. I had a good time, too."

She smiled wider and skipped ahead of him into the lobby of the hotel.

"Dr. Brennan," he heard the man at the desk call, "there's an envelope here for you."

He caught up to her just as she took the envelope from the kid. Booth nodded at him in greeting, then shifted his attention to the envelope in Brennan's hands.

"I wonder what it could be," she remarked quietly.

"You're not expecting anything?"

She shook her head.

Some unknown emotion cramped his gut and he held out his hand. "Let me."

She turned to him with narrow eyes. "Booth, I…"

"Bones, please."

Her eyes remained narrowed, but she handed him the envelope. "I don't see why…"

He pulled out his pocket knife and slid the blade beneath the flap on the envelope.

Once it was open, he tipped the envelope over and let the contents fall onto the counter. He peered into it, making sure it was empty.

"Booth." Her voice was high and breathless and his head came up instantly.

She held a photo in her hand and as he looked up, she turned it towards him.

It was them, at the factory this afternoon. Whoever had taken it had poked a hole right through Bones' chest. Right through her heart.

"Someone followed us," he heard her remark softly.

He was already turning, his eyes taking in every inch of the lobby. His gun was out and in his hands without even a conscious thought.

"Who gave it to you?" He growled, turning to lock eyes with the kid behind the counter briefly.

"I…I don't know. Some guy."

"A guy?" Booth asked harshly. "A guy? What the hell did he look like?"

"Booth," Bones called and his eyes darted back to her. She was looking down at the back of the photo.

He moved to her quickly and glanced over her shoulder. On the back of the photo in sharp, black writing were the words, _It's not nice to refuse me_.

Bones' panicked eyes found his.

"What does it mean?"

He gritted his teeth and surveyed the lobby once more, squinting to see the darkening world beyond the glass doors.

"It means I'm calling in the cowboys, Bones. Somebody has gone too far."

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun, dun. Ohhh, a mystery, no? I thought it was about time for some intrigue. And the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory truly is a magical place. If you ever get a chance to visit, absolutely do. Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you all thought.

To see pictures of the bears, go to vermontteddybear **dot** com and search "ballerina", "super hero", and "good wishes fairy".


	7. Of Jurisdiction and Comparisons

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4, current episode

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who's read and reviewed, you guys are fantastic! Sorry for the wait, school's started back up again with a vengeance.

SUPER episode tonight! Although, I was really anticipating a bit more of a reunion between the two. Jared redeemed himself a bit in my eyes. Anyone else read this week's TV guide? The producer's revelation about the finale? Anyone else ready to emit an Angela-worthy squeal? Needless to say, I'm on tenterhooks awaiting the finale. Anyway, here's the next chapter.

_

* * *

_

He moved to her quickly and glanced over her shoulder. On the back of the photo in sharp, black writing were the words,

_**It's not nice to refuse me**__. _

_Bones' panicked eyes found his._

"_What does it mean?"_

_He gritted his teeth and surveyed the lobby once more, squinting to see the darkening world beyond the glass doors. _

"_It means I'm calling in the cowboys, Bones. Somebody has gone too far."_

* * *

"Why are we even here? It's just a goddamn picture."

Booth glared at the back of the young uniforms' heads and cleared his throat. The two young men turned to face him and their eyes widened. Booth placed his hand on his hip, right next to the FBI badge he'd clipped there a few minutes ago.

"Let's keep in mind that I could have both of your asses busted right back to the academy, you got me?"

They nodded quickly.

"This is a threat and it will be treated as such."

The one who'd spoken snapped quickly to attention. "Yes, sir."

His partner was hasty to agree. "Of course, sir."

"Good, now I want this place canvassed. Find anybody who saw anything. You got security cameras?" He asked the guy still looking a bit stunned behind the counter. "I want…"

"Excuse me, Agent Booth?"

Booth turned in time to see another uniform walk up. This one quite a few years older, his shirt bearing more bars, his face testifying far more experience.

"I'm Captain Westin. I'll be in charge here."

Booth's head was shaking before he could stop it. "Oh, no, I'm calling the shots on this one. This is my…"

"Is this not you in the picture, Agent Booth?" Captain Westin asked, holding up the picture in a clear evidence bag. "You're involved here. She's your partner, for crying out loud. You could be a target, too. I'll be heading this investigation."

"Listen here…"

"I'll include you in all aspects and I'll take anything you tell me seriously. But right now you need to take care of your partner and let me and my boys handle this."

At the captain's mention of Bones, Booth turned and searched the gathering crowd. Ah, there she was, standing back against the wall, a uniform in front of her, looking scared and unsure…and alone.

"Full participation," he said to the captain, his eyes barely moving from his partner.

"Full participation."

Booth nodded.

"Know that if I don't like the way this investigation is going, I won't hesitate to call my superiors and get this transferred over to the FBI."

He caught the captain's eyes briefly until the other man nodded.

"Until then, my boys and I'll handle it."

"Your prime suspect is going to be a professor Logan Hart," Booth told him quickly, noting the pink tinge quickly creeping up his partner's cheeks. Even from this far away, he could tell that she was getting mad. "He's an ex-boyfriend of Dr. Brennan's, he's been…persistent in trying to get her back."

The captain nodded and made a note.

"Seeing as this is a relatively small threat and you'll be with her all night, we'll go talk to him tomorrow. Give my guys time to look up some background and the lab guys start looking for DNA and prints on the photo and envelope."

"Sure," Booth said distractedly, his eyes still on Bones who had progressed to rolling her eyes. "I want to be there when you bring him in."

The captain smiled and nodded. "I'll give you a call in the morning."

"I appreciate it." Booth shook the captain's hand, then double-timed it to his partner's side.

"I've already told you, Mr. Hart is the only person I can think of who…"

Booth placed a hand on her back, stopping her midsentence.

"How you doin' there, Bones?"

"I'm fine, Booth, but this officer seems to think that the way to get people to reveal things to him is to keep asking them the same stupid questions until they get fed up and…"

"Ah, ah, ah." Booth smiled sympathetically at the uniform. "I've already spoken to your captain about Logan Hart. He's the only suspect we've got at this point. You done here?"

"Um,"—the guy looked quickly down at his notes—"Yeah, I think so."

"Great. Let's go, Bones."

* * *

He'd put Bones to bed half an hour ago when she'd started falling asleep on his shoulder. Not that he didn't want her there. Ho no, that wasn't it _at_ all. In fact, he'd have been content to keep her there all night. It was just that she'd looked so uncomfortable like that, he was afraid she'd have a crick in her neck if he'd left her there any longer.

Now he couldn't sleep.

God, what if some creep snuck in the window and put a hand over her mouth? She'd never be able to scream.

He knew it was unlikely. Hart knew that he was staying here; he wouldn't risk it. And it if was someone else? Well…

Goddamn.

He stood and walked to her bedroom door. He tried to tell himself that he was being crazy, that she was fine, but it didn't help one bit. He needed to see her, to hear her breath. The thought of losing her…If he lost her…

The door opened with a soft creak and Booth slipped into the room.

She was there, zonked out completely, curled up on her side with her face to him.

He watched her. He drank her in. Her pale skin stood out in stark contrast against the cranberry sheets on the bed. Her auburn waves were spread haphazardly across the pillow. One smooth wave tickled her lower lip. Her breathing was slow and even, and as he stood there she let out a few soft snores.

He smiled to himself. He loved those snores. He'd told her about them in Vegas, but she hadn't believed him. Or rather, she'd denied it until her lips had turned blue.

He took a few more steps into the room and sank down silently on the chair at the desk.

He hated this. He hated when his partner, _his Bones_, was on the receiving end of some threat. His greatest nightmare, and it was a recurring one, was that he would be too slow, too weak, too late. One of these days, the threat-makers would carry through and he wouldn't be able to save her. He refused to think about it. She was his to protect and he would damn-well protect her.

She shifted a bit in her sleep and let out a muffled sigh.

She was so cute when she let down her guard. And he'd been noticing lately that she did that a lot…with him. With others, especially strangers, she still put on the front of the cold, uptight, scientist, but not with him. He'd spent years chipping away at her walls and he was finally able to climb over them with ease. He prayed to God it stayed that way.

She shifted once more and he heard her groan softly just before she said, "Booth?"

"Uh, yeah?"

She didn't seek him out in the darkness, didn't lift her head at all.

"Will ya jus get'ina bed?" She mumbled.

He froze. Had he misheard her? Was she still asleep, unaware of what she was saying? Had she just told him to get in the bed?

"Booth," she said in quiet exasperation, "if you must be here to assure yourself that I'm alive, you may as well just get into the bed and go to sleep."

Right. Well, when she put it like that.

He padded across the room and climbed in under the covers next to her.

"Better?" She asked, then without waiting for an answer, "Now, go to sleep."

Booth chuckled quietly, rolled to his other side, and fell asleep.

* * *

Temperance was much too warm when she awoke. And, God, were these blanket heavy.

She reached down to pull of them off and encountered an arm. At least, she thought it was an arm. It had a hand and…she traced it up the other way, turning onto her back in order to do so. Yes, a shoulder, and…

"Bones, when you're done groping me, maybe we could get some coffee?"

Her eyes flew open. Booth. It was Booth's arm and Booth's hand and Booth's shoulder and Booth's…well-formed chest, and…Booth was in bed with her.

"G-groping?" She stuttered, indignant. "You're the one with your arm around my waist."

He gave her a soft, tired grin framed by dark morning stubble.

"Yes, but my hand is stationary. See, no groping. _You_ were groping me, copping a feel, examining the merchandise…"

"Merchandise?"

He shook his head silently, then pulled her close for a moment.

"I'm gonna go hop in the shower, Bones," he said, releasing her, "then I'll go get us breakfast. I want to stick around here today in case Captain Westin calls."

"Alright," she said, then watched as he left the room.

Had he been wearing only boxers when they'd gone to bed last night? Well, when _she'd_ gone to bed. He had been sleeping on the couch, hadn't he? Then how had he… She had the sudden memory of telling him to just get in the bed.

He'd been sitting in _that_ chair; she'd known it despite the fact that her eyes had been closed and the room had been dark. He had been fretting about something, of that she'd been sure. His scrutiny had wakened her and she had…

She groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets with her.

They were two mature adults, it shouldn't matter that they'd shared a bed. Hell, they'd shared that bed in the mobile home when they were undercover at the circus looking for Julie and Jenny's killer. So why did it feel so different now? So forbidden, so…right. It had felt _right_ to wake up in Booth's arms, damnit. That hadn't happened at the circus. They'd kept most determinedly to their own sides of the bed. Booth had been so flustered. He'd offered to sleep on the floor, but she'd insisted that they could share a bed. Not once had she woken up in his arms. She wondered what had changed.

* * *

"Alright, Bones," Booth began as soon as she'd stepped out of the bedroom dressed for the day. He had a breakfast sandwich in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Eat up your bagel there and we'll head off to the police station."

Temperance picked up her coffee from the kitchen table and took a sip. Exactly how she liked it. Funny, Booth was the only man who ever seemed to remember.

"They have Logan already?" She asked as she set about spreading vegetable cream cheese from a small tub onto her plain bagel.

"Mmhmm," he confirmed around a mouthful of what appeared to be egg, sausage and English muffin.

"Is that any good?" She asked, peering more closely at his sandwich.

"It's great, Bones. You want a bite?"  
"You know I don't…"

"No, you don't eat meat. Never mind. I'll get you one tomorrow with no sausage."

Before she could answer, he'd taken her bagel, slapped it back together, wrapped it back in its wax paper and replaced it in her hand.

"You can eat that on the way," he told her. "I want to be there to watch the interrogation."

"Watch it?" She asked. She allowed him to lead her to the door, then stood back as he shut it and made sure it was locked. "I'd have thought you would want to be a part of it."

His hand at the small of her back was warm and comforting.

"I would, but Hart still thinks I'm your boyfriend. I want to see what he'll spill based on that."

"You're not going to tell him that you're my partner?"

They stepped into the elevator and Booth pressed the button for the garage before turning back to her.

"I thought I'd hold off on that."

She nodded. She wasn't really sure what Booth thought he might gain from continuing to allow Logan to think he was her boyfriend, but that was Booth's area of expertise so she kept her mouth shut. "Is Captain Westin aware of…"

"I filled him in, Bones. I'm not a rookie here, remember?"

"Of course, Booth. I know that."

"Great," he said as they stepped off the elevator into the attached parking garage. "We'll hang out, watch the interrogation, see if we catch anything the cops don't. If at some point I decide it would be best for Hart to know who I am, I'll step in and let him know."

She remained silent until they'd reached the SUV and he'd helped her in, though she insisted that he was being silly and she could certainly do it herself.

She couldn't help but think that this was the what…third time now that Booth would be interrogating one of her boyfriends, ex or otherwise. What was it with her and men? Why was it that every single one of them had either turned out to be some kind of criminal, some kind of weirdo, or some kind of jerk? Well, there had been Sully. But he had left her. Granted, he had asked her to accompany him, but really…they hadn't even been dating for a year. He hadn't really had a right to ask her to leave everything and follow him into the sunset. Did that mean she had no right to ask him to stay? Had she wanted him to? No. No, she hadn't. But still…he'd left her. Booth had said he'd never leave her. And there she was again, always back to Booth. It always came back to Booth. And with a start, she realized that none of the men she'd dated had been good enough, because inevitably she ended up comparing every single one of them…to Booth.

"Bones? Bones, you okay? Aren't you gonna eat your bagel? We're almost there, you know?"

She turned to see Booth watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm fine, Booth. Just thinking."

She peeled the wrap back from her bagel and took a bite.

"'Bout what?"  
She blinked over at him, but his eyes were back on the road. "Nothing, really.

Just…things."

"Things, huh?"

"Things," she agreed. No way was she about to tell him that she'd just now discovered that he was the standard by which she measured all other men. No way. Because it couldn't possibly be true. No. It couldn't possibly.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought!


	8. Of Suspects and Sketches

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: I don't think so, but through Hero in the Hold to be safe.

A/N: Thanks so much to each and every one of you who has read and/or reviewed the past chapters. Again, I'm sorry for the wait, but real life has gotten hectic. Ah well, it's here now and ready for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

* * *

Previously:

_"I'm fine, Booth. Just thinking."_

_She peeled the wrap back from her bagel and took a bite._

_"'Bout what?"  
She blinked over at him, but his eyes were back on the road. "Nothing, really._

_Just…things."_

_ "Things, huh?"_

_ "Things," she agreed. No way was she about to tell him that she'd just now discovered that he was the standard by which she measured all other men. No way. Because it couldn't possibly be true. No. It couldn't possibly._

* * *

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

"Are you denying that you have been actively pursuing Dr. Temperance Brennan for the time she's been here in Vermont?" Captain Westin asked the blonde man in front of him.

"No, I'm not denying that. Tempe is a beautiful, intelligent, caring woman, and we have a history. Of course I've been pursuing her."

"Are denying the fact that she refused to go on a date with you?"

Logan Hart shook his head, an infuriating grin on his face. "Tempe and I went on a couple of dates. She was just playing hard to get."

Booth rolled his eyes. Beside him, Bones bristled.

"I was not."

"I know that, Bones."

"If I'd wanted him, I'd have told him that."

"Hush, Bones."

He watched through the glass as Captain Westin leaned closer to his main suspect. "Did Dr. Brennan express reluctance to spend time with you?"

Hart nodded. "She did, but as I said, she was just playing hard to get."

"I _wasn't_."

"I _know_, Bones. Now be quiet and let me watch the rest of the interview."

Bones crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I've never seen the point in 'playing hard to get'. If you want someone, you should tell them. Games are just a waste of time."

Booth ignored her.

"How did that make you feel, Mr. Hart?"

That grin was really getting infuriating, Booth thought as he watched it stretch over Hart's face once more.

"I was intrigued, of course. Nothing like the chase to make the catch that much more sweet."

Booth's hands were tightened into fists inside his pockets. What he wouldn't give for ten minutes alone with this guy. Hart slouched lazily back in his chair. Scratch that, all he'd need was five.

"Her refusals didn't upset you?"

Hart cocked his head, surveying the man in front of him.

"Captain, I could have my pick of women on and around the campus. Tempe is an amusement, that's all. If I catch her, fine. If I don't, fine. No reason to be upset. Now, what is this all about, anyway?"

"Where were you yesterday afternoon between 12:30 pm and 1:30 pm?"

"How did they narrow down the timeline?" Bones asked in a whisper; as if the room they were standing in wasn't soundproof. "Was the photo time-stamped?"

Booth shook his head, his eyes not leaving the interrogation still proceeding in the room next to theirs.

"It was taken when we were on our way into the factory. I gave him the time frame."

"Ah," she said with a nod. "Good thinking, Booth."

He glanced down at her with a grin. "Don't sound so surprised, Bones."

"Oh, no, I'm not…"

"Never mind. Shhh."

The Captain was now pacing back and forth behind Hart's chair. The idiot was actually starting to look a bit intimidated.

"So, the other professors can vouch for your presence at the meeting?"

"That's correct."

Westin was quiet for a moment, scrutinizing the other man.

"What exactly am I suspected of, here, Captain?"

"A threatening photo was left for Dr. Brennan at her hotel."

Hart sat forward in his chair. "And I'm suspected of having sent it? Why on earth would I send Tempe a threat?"

"It was suggested you might have felt slighted by her continued refusals to spend time with you."

Hart's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "By whom? It was that boyfriend of hers, wasn't it? The guy's got it in for me."

Booth couldn't stifle a laugh.

"You do," Bones muttered.

"Not for the reasons he thinks," Booth replied, though he knew it was a downright lie. Hart thought he was jealous. Well, damnit, he was. Only he wasn't about to admit that to Bones.

"It's him you should be looking at, you know. He's probably trying to scare her so that she'll cling to him and let him take her back to D.C."

"Ha," Bones said on a laugh. "Cling to you."

Booth rolled his eyes. It wasn't actually as far off as she would like to believe. Maybe not in this particular instance, but he could remember her clinging to him in the past; when that damn pig farmer had upset her so much; when they'd thought her brother had been killed; when he'd pulled her out of the sand after the grave digger…

"Seeley Booth has an alibi."

"Oh, yeah, what's that?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you. And I'll be the one asking the questions here."

Hart grunted his acquiescence.

"Do you have access to a camera, Mr. Hart?"

"Yes, of course."

"Would you be willing to let us take a look at it?"

Hart was silent, watching the Captain for a moment. Finally, he nodded. "Sure, why not? I have nothing to hide."

"Great. I'll send one of my men back to your house with you to collect it."

"I don't think he did it," Booth said, turning away from the window, back towards Brennan.

"Why not?"

"Well, he's a damn creep, but he looked genuinely confused as to why he was here. I don't think he knows anything."

"Me neither," Captain Westin said as he entered the room through a hall door.

"What now, then?" Bones asked.

Booth could tell that she was frustrated. She was used to having her bones in front of her, to having an active part in an investigation. There was nothing for her to do in this case, nothing for her to examine.

"I've got my guys checking for fingerprints and DNA on the photo and envelope. That should take another day or so. We looked over the security videos from the hotel, but the angles were bad. All we caught was a guy in jeans and a black hoodie crossing the foyer. The concierge says he's the guy, but we can't tell anything about him, not even his height. I've suggested some better places for cameras to the manager, but that won't help us now."

Booth put his hands on his hips and shook his head. This _was_ frustrating. He felt so helpless standing by while these guys did what they could. Which was not enough.

"You have the kid sit down with a sketch artist?"

Westin's head tipped to the side. "We ain't got one."

Booth felt his eyebrows raise. No sketch artist. God, he really wasn't in D.C. anymore, was he?

"There's one in the next county, but he's buried in other cases. I'm sorry to say, Agent Booth, but this case really isn't top priority. Murders and rapes trump threats in my book."

"Of course," Booth said with a nod, though he felt like howling. This was Bones and she might be in danger and there was nothing he could do. He ran an unsteady hand back through his hair.

"Maybe Angela can help," Bones said.

Booth turned to look at her. Angela? Angela! Of course.

"You got your laptop with you, Bones? With the little web-cammy thingy?"

Her smiled was slow and teasing. "Yes, Booth, I have my web-cam."

"So you can set up a conference with Angela and this kid and she can give us a sketch." He rubbed his hands together. This was more like it. Him and his squints, solving crimes.

"Sure, Booth."

"I'll have him brought in," Captain Westin said. "We won't be able to use your friend's sketch in court, but it could lead us in the right direction. If this goes that far, we'll just get the kid to testify."

* * *

An hour later Booth, Temperance, and the concierge, who's name was Philip, were seated in an interrogation room at the precinct.

"You're not in trouble here, Philip, so just relax," Booth assured the young man.

Apparently he would have been their first suspect since he'd been the one to actually have the photo, but he'd been at the desk since they'd left that morning, the only one on duty. There was no way he could have left.

"Okay."

"We just want you to talk to a sketch artist. See if we can get a picture of the guy who gave you the envelope."

"Uh, sure," Philip replied with a shrug. "I'll talk to whoever."

"You got that thing set up yet, Bones?"

Temperance pressed the connect button and Angela popped up on her screen.

"Hey, Bren, what's up?"

"Are you ready to do the sketch, Ange?"

Angela held up a sketch pad and pencil to the camera. "Sure. But I have to say, this is the strangest session I've ever had with a witness."

"You don't say?" Philip remarked from across the table. "I'm supposed to talk to a computer?"

Temperance turned the computer so that Philip could see the screen. "This is Angela Montenegro of the Jeffersonian Institute. She's a forensic artist. The very best, actually."

"Oh, cut it out, Sweetie," Temperance heard her friend say, "you'll make me blush."

"Ange, this is Philip. He's one of the concierges from the hotel where I've been staying. He's the one who received the envelope."

She'd explained everything to Angela over the phone as soon as they'd decided on their course of action. Angela had been her usual concerned self, offering to fly up as soon as she could. Temperance had assured her that that was not necessary.

"Okay, uh, so how's this supposed to work?"

Temperance sat back and let Angela explain.

"You okay, Bones?" Booth asked her quietly.

She looked up at him in surprise. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. "It's a lot to deal with, having someone after you and all."

"We're not even sure someone is after me, Booth. This has been the only threat."

"I'm not taking chances with your safety, Bones."

His eyes narrowed and he scooted his chair closer to hers.

"I'm not suggesting that at all, Booth. I just mean that I'm not all that worried yet."

His face was inches from her own, his breath warm on her face. "Don't be getting too complacent about this, Bones. I want you on alert here."

"I'm always aware of my surroundings, Booth. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I…"

"Uh, guys? We're finished."

Bones took one more moment to glare at Booth, then she grabbed the lap top and spun it back to face her.

"Are you two arguing again?" Angela asked with a grin.

"What have you got, Angela?"

"Um, well." Angela turned her sketch pad towards the camera.

It was…a man. That was really all you could tell. It wasn't a bad sketch; far from it. There just wasn't anything remotely specific about his characteristics. Square jaw, blunt nose, wide-set eyes. No facial hair, no moles, no birth marks, hair hidden under a black hood.

"It's not much. Your witness should take some lessons on memory recall."

"Hey!"

"Sorry. I've got to go, Sweetie. I'll fax this to the precinct there right away. Sorry I couldn't be more help. Bye, everyone!" Temperance said goodbye and disconnected.

"I'm sorry I couldn't remember more about him," Philip said, his eyes on the table in front of him. "He kept his hood on the whole time and he was only there for a couple of minutes."

"Hey, you did good kid," Booth assured him, standing and placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Thanks for the help."

They dismissed Philip, then went in search of Captain Westin.

"So?" He asked when he saw them standing in the doorway of his office.

"We didn't get much," Booth told him. "Just a generic sketch, really. The kid couldn't remember much. Ms. Montenegro's faxing it here now."

Westin nodded.

"Any other suspects for me?"

* * *

"You sure you haven't refused anyone else lately, Bones? Because as your partner, I know that you are very fond of saying exactly what's on your mind."

They were seated across from each other in a booth at the Chinese restaurant a block from the hotel.

"I've told you, Booth, I can't think of anyone…"

Booth looked up from his moo goo gai pan to study her. "What?"

"That student of Dr. Laughlin's. I refused to let him interview me."

Booth nodded and took another bite of his food. "Good, Bones. That's good."

"Why is that good, Booth?"

"Because it gives us another avenue to pursue."

She took a few bites of her vegetable tempora.

"Aren't you going to call Captain Westin?"

Booth shrugged. "When we leave. It can wait. If I can't protect you from some amateur squint, I think I'm handing in my badge."

She smiled that smile he loved and rolled her eyes.

"So, what are we doing tomorrow?" He asked finally.

"I've got another lecture and then a book signing at the local book store."

Booth groaned and rolled his head on his shoulders. Always with the work. And if she was out and about lecturing and signing, he'd have to be too because there was no way he was letting her out of his sight until this threat had been sorted out.

"Booth, I came here to work, I'm not just going to drop everything to take out some sights with you."

"Take in, Bones. You take the sights in, not out."

"Whatever."

"Its fine, Bones. I can manage to listen to your lecture once more. And I do need to get my copy of your book signed," he told her with his best charm smile, just to get her to lighten up.

"Booth, I signed your book before I gave it to you," she said in exasperation.

He laughed, shook his head, and went back to his dinner.

* * *

Three hours later, Booth had Bones right where he wanted her, in his arms. She'd insisted that they might as well just share the bed since she knew he'd be in and out of the room checking on her all night if they didn't. He'd accepted with very little argument. It just felt so right to hold her. She was soft and warm and…Bones. God, it was better than anything he'd ever felt. Better than intercourse with other women. He didn't even want to contemplate what that particular endeavor would be like with her if just holding her affected him like this.

They'd called Captain Westin with their new suspect, and agreed that Westin would question him tomorrow morning and get back to them. They'd be busy with Bones' commitments all day. Booth had also suggested that they send the security tapes to Angela and let her look them over. Westin had agreed reluctantly, wanting to believe that if there was anything on the tapes, his guys would have caught it. But Angela had technology and skills that these guys didn't have and Booth was confident that she would find _something_. Bones had suggested that once the techs were done with the photo and envelope, they send those, too. Westin had looked ready to explode, but he'd given in. It was difficult, Booth knew, to say no to Bones.

She was asleep now, her soft snores bringing a smile to his face. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, willing his body to relax. It didn't quite work. Certain parts of him were all too aware of her pressed so nicely up against him. He sighed and gave up. If this was the price he had to pay for holding her close, he'd gladly grit his teeth and bare it.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I don't know why, but it seems almost every chapter of this fic so far ends with one or the other (or both) of them in bed. Huh. Anyway, don't forget to let me know what you thought!


	9. Of Promises and Practice

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4, The Princess and the Pear

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed! The encouragement is what keeps me writing. And so sorry about the wait! I'll try to update more often to keep us all entertained until March 12. Enjoy!

* * *

Temperance glanced up from the podium and felt her eyes drawn to the back left-hand corner of the hall for what seemed like the hundredth time since she'd begun her speech.

Booth's eyes didn't meet hers. Just like the ninety nine other times she had glanced back at him in the past half hour, he was once again surveying the hall with a trained eye. He was tense; she could see that even from here. His back didn't touch his chair, one hand rested high on his thigh, about five inches from the gun concealed beneath his lightweight jacket. He looked like he was about to twitch right out of his seat. As she watched him, his head spun her way and their eyes locked. Coffee brown met blue-grey and held.

Temperance wrenched her attention away from him.

Five minutes later, her head turned as if of its own volition and found the back corner once more. Booth was gone.

She blinked rapidly a few times, her speech faltering. An undefined panic gripped her and she stopped talking altogether. Where was he?

Her head had barely stopped spinning when she heard a throat cleared from the left of the stage. Her automatic reaction was to turn towards the sound. There was Booth, grinning up at her, motioning with his hand for her to continue.

She stared at him for several seconds before clearing her throat, turning back to the crowd in front of her, and picking up her lecture where she'd left off.

She could feel Booth watching her the entire time she spoke. His gaze made her spine tingle. She had no scientific explanation for that, and that fact made her eyes narrow and her smile disappear. She couldn't be having unexplainable reactions to Booth. It just wasn't rational. She shook herself mentally and focused back on her speech.

Twenty minutes later, she left the podium to a round of applause. Booth met her at the side of the stage, his hand falling into place at the small of her back as if it belonged there. Did it?

She stopped wondering when he leaned in and spoke in her ear, "Nice speech, Bones. But it kinda lagged there in the middle for a minute, didn't it?"

She turned to glare up at him and was met by his infamous charm smile. Her eyes narrowed.

"It was your fault."

He feigned offense. "How could it possibly be my fault that you forgot how to talk for a minute?"

She watched her toes tap against the hardwood floor as she answered him. "You…you weren't there," she said softly.

He leaned down closer to her and cupped a hand behind his ear. "What was that? I can't understand your mumbling, Dr. Brennan."

She stopped walking. Students fanned out around them to get into the hallway. Booth grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of the doorway. Her back was straight, her focus direct as she repeated her statement.

"You weren't there," she said with more venom. "When I looked up at the corner…you were gone."

He watched her, his eyes softening, his charm smile fading into something softer, something more…intimate.

"I didn't like being so far away from you," he said quietly. "If something happened, it would have taken me long minutes to get to you through that crowd. Too long."

* * *

She nodded, but she didn't look convinced. He placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up.

"I will never leave you, Temperance. You know that." He made it a statement and not a question. Bones believed in her own mind. If she knew something, then it was fact. If he could convince her that she _knew_ he wouldn't leave her, then maybe she'd finally believe it.

She nodded again.

"But if it wasn't your choice. If something happened…"

He smiled down at her, what he hoped was a reassuring grin. "I'm not that easy to get rid of, Bones."

Her gaze focused over his shoulder. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh? What uh oh?"

He turned to follow her gaze and immediately understood the uh oh. Logan Hart was headed their way, and the man did not look happy. Booth felt Bones try to step out from behind him, but he moved with her, keeping himself between her and Blondie.

Hart stopped about three feet from Booth. He was clearly trying very hard to appear calm. He wasn't fooling Booth. His hands were in his pockets, but Booth could tell they were clenched into fists. The smile he attempted looked more like a grimace. His voice shook when he spoke.

"Temperance, may I have a moment alone with you?"

Booth answered before Bones could even take a breath. "No."

Hart's green eyes narrowed dangerously and he took another step forward.

Booth's gun-hand itched.

Bones stepped out around Booth and placed a cautioning hand on his arm.

"This is between Tempe and I," Hart practically growled.

Booth opened his mouth to speak, but Brennan's hand squeezed his arm, effectively stopping him.

"Booth," she said.

He glanced down at her, trying to read her intentions in her eyes. They told him she wanted to handle it. Damnit, the woman was too independent for her own good. Hell, she was too independent for _his_ good.

He really wanted to shake his head, pushed her back behind him, and sock Hart in the jaw. Instead, he nodded shortly, told her to yell if she needed him, and stepped through the door into the hallway.

Ten minutes had never felt so long.

She came out then, Hart trailing her like a damn puppy dog. The grin on Hart's face told him that Bones had done everything in her power to placate the man.

"Let's go," Bones said in an even voice as she swept past him. He stepped in quickly behind her, blocking her from Hart once more, and placed his hand on her back. He felt her shiver and she seemed to lean back into his hand as they moved together down the hallway towards the exit. He took it as an invitation and quickly slipped his arm around her waist.

Hart veered off at the stairs, calling out a quick goodbye to the pair.

Once they were alone, Bones seemed to relax. She softened against his side and the deathgrip she'd had on her briefcase let up.

"You okay?" He asked.

She nodded. "He asked why I'd sent the cops after him. I told him I'd had a threat and that the cops were looking at every possible angle."

She glanced up at him as if seeking his approval. He smiled a small smile and nodded for her to continue.

"He seemed to accept that." She laughed once as she finished. "He asked me out to dinner again, but I refused."

"Then why did he seem so cocky when you guys came out?"

"He told me he wasn't giving up. Do you still not think it's him?"

He shrugged. "Anything's possible."

"He did seem awfully angry about the police," Bones remarked,

Booth nodded. "Yeah, but if he was the bad guy I don't think he would have confronted you like that, not with me here."

"But he still thinks you're my boyfriend. He doesn't know you're FBI," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Dr. Brennan," a voice called out from behind them. They turned in unison towards it.

"Dr. Loughlin," Bones acknowledged.

The man slid to a stop in front of them. His suit today was green and brown tweed. Booth was pretty sure Grandma Booth had had a matching sofa. Loughlin's tie was askew, and his hair was flopping over his forehead. He pressed a hand into his side and struggled to catch his breath.

"I'm glad I caught you. I just wanted to tell you that you gave another excellent lecture today."

Bones nodded. "I know."

Booth couldn't hold in the chuckle. She was unbelievable. "Bones," he said in a whisper. "I think the proper response would be, thank you."

She blinked up at him. "Oh. Yes, of course." She turned back to Loughlin and gave him a wide smile. "Thank you."

Loughlin opened his mouth to respond, glanced from Booth to Bones and back again, closed his mouth. He was silent for several more seconds, then he said, "Yes, you're welcome, Dr. Brennan."

"Are you headed home then?" Bones asked. "You can walk out with us."

"Oh no," Loughlin shook his head, his floppy hair swishing back and forth. "I'm headed back to my office to meet with a couple of students about their research papers. Three of them are hoping to have them published when they're finished."

"And you'll put your name on them, of course. To lend credence," Bones remarked.

Loughlin grinned. "Yes, of course. I think some of them have some real potential. Especially Nathan Waltham. He's the one writing about cannibalism."

Booth wondered if the cops had spoken to the kid yet. He'd called Westin about Brennan's suspicions last night, but he hadn't heard back from him yet.

"Has he spoken to Dr. Monroe like I suggested? That man is really an expert in the field."

"Yes," Loughlin said with a nod. "Monroe was very helpful. Of course, I still think that your personal account would give Nathan's paper that extra…edge. Are you sure you won't reconsider…"

"No," Bones replied without waiting for him to finish.

She was tense again, so Booth pulled her closer and nuzzled his face into her hair. What? These people thought they were a couple. He was just reinforcing the belief. Yeah, and Satan was ice-skating in hell right now, too.

"Of course," Loughlin was saying. "I'm sure his paper will be very impressive without your testimony."

"Right," Booth said before the conversation could become any more strained. "Temperance and I should get going. You want to go back to the hotel and change before the book signing, don't you, Bones?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "Yes, yes I do."

"Well, then I'll see you at the signing, Dr. Brennan," Loughlin called as Booth turned and pulled Bones towards the exit once more.

* * *

"Booth."

They had been silent since getting into the car at the university. They were halfway back to the hotel now, and Temperance couldn't hold her thoughts in any longer.

"Hmmm?"

She was quiet for another moment, trying to decide how to word her question.

"When we were at the school, talking to Loughlin, and you…umm…rubbed your face in my hair. Was that to keep up the appearance that we're…together?"

He turned his head and their eyes met. He cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to the road. "Yeah, yeah, of course."

"So, umm, why are you holding my hand now?"

He glanced down at their linked hands on the console between the seats as if just now realizing what he was doing. He pulled his hand away as if burned and Temperance watched his cheeks flame with color.

"Umm, you know…I was just…practicing, Bones. For when other people are around. You know?"

She nodded. It made sense. If they were more intimate in private, then they would surely be more convincing in public. But, then, that didn't explain why she found such profound…pleasure in physical contact with this man.

"Booth," she said as he pulled into the garage behind the hotel.

He glanced up at her.

"You could, maybe, continue practicing. If you wanted to," she added hastily.

He parked the car, turned it off, then turned in his seat to watch her. She hated to admit that his gaze made her want to squirm like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

What? It was perfectly natural for human beings to crave physical contact, even outside of the parameters of a sexual relationship. And it _had_ been awhile since she'd been in one of those; since before Booth's birthday, in fact. Yes, that explained it.

Booth's eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled.

"Alright, Bones. We can practice."

He leaned across the console, and before she could react, his lips were on hers. It was a brief kiss, a mere brushing of lips. But in that moment, she felt his warm breath, smelled his masculine, Booth scent. Her eyes slid closed just as he pulled away.

She heard a light chuckle, then his door opened and closed. She forced her eyes open just as he came around the hood of the car to her side. Her door was opened with no effort from her, then Booth was in the space between her and the door and his smile was infuriating.

"Very funny, Booth."

His grin widened and he raised his hands in a show of innocence. "I was just practicing, Bones. What if I have to kiss you in front of Hart sometime to keep up appearances?"

She narrowed her eyes, but allowed him to help her down out of the vehicle. She ended up far, far too close to him, and used the excuse of shutting the car door to get him to move away.

"We've kissed before," she reminded him as he placed his hand on her back and led the way to the elevator.

"But I wasn't prepared that time," he said. "It didn't count. You didn't get the whole Seeley Booth experience."

It was scientifically improbable, but Temperance wasn't entirely certain she'd survive the whole Seeley Booth experience.

"Well, I wasn't prepared this time, so it doesn't count either."

They'd reached the elevator by now, and Booth pressed the button, then stepped aside to allow Temperance in first. As the doors slid closed behind them, he stepped forward, officially getting into her personal space. His smile was teasing, but his eyes were intense as he spoke.

"Should we make it count?"

She was flustered, she would admit. Was he asking…was he saying…

He leaned forwards slowly, leaving her time to pull away. She couldn't have if she'd wanted to.

This was Booth, for God's sake. She couldn't just kiss him. There was that line, after all. And this one would count, no doubt about that. But then, Booth was the one initiating things, and it was _his_ line. Maybe he'd decided it didn't matter anymore.

Their lips were centimeters apart, their breath mingling, when the doors slid open and real life intruded.

"Dr. Brennan!"

She jerked back from him just as he spun towards the open elevator doors and the desk attendant now hopping from foot to foot just outside of them.

"I was just sitting there at the desk and he came in again and the envelope was brown this time…or manila, I think that's what they call it. But I called the cops, because I was sure that's what you'd want. They called but you'd already left the college and cell phone reception's horrible around here and…"

Booth stepped out of the elevator and placed a hand on Philip's shoulder.

"Slow down, kid. Now, what the hell happened?"

Captain Westin answered as he stepped out from around the corner holding a large manila folder. "Another threat."

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Don't forget to let me know what you thought!


	10. Of Time Limits and Costume Changes

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through the Season 4 episode "The Salt in the Wounds" just to be safe.

A/N: I am soooo sorry for the really long wait. This chapter just would not come out. I've had this and the next two or three planned out in my head for some time now, but every time I sat down to write it…nothing. I've been having trouble getting into Brennan's head. Booth and I, we've got like this mind-meld thing going on, but Brennan eludes me. Anyone who's read my other works knows that my writing is mostly character-driven and that most of that is emotion. Well, Brennan is more fact than emotion and I've been having a difficult time with that. I really hope I've got her mostly in character here. Ah well, I've made you wait long enough. I hope this is a good enough reward for your patience.

* * *

"We've been followed, Booth."

"I'm aware of that, Bones." He glared down at the array of photos spread out on the hotel's conference room table as if the force of his gaze alone might make them cease to exist.

"You should have noticed," she stated emphatically. "It's your job to notice. You're FBI."

As if he could forget that fact. As if he could forget for one moment the lousy job he'd been doing of protecting her.

Six pictures. Six different locales. And who was the subject of every single one? She was. Bones. _His_ Bones. It was not acceptable.

Of course, he was in most of the photos as well, which only reinforced the fact that he should have noticed someone snapping them.

The university parking lot. She was grinning up at him, her blue eyes squinting against the glare of the sun.

The hotel lobby. They were arguing over something if the scowl on his face was any indication. Her hands were on her hips, and as usual, she was not backing down.

The Chinese food restaurant. They were walking out, twilight falling around them. His hand was at the small of her back and it looked more natural to him than anything in the world.

In his SUV, parked outside of the hotel. She was watching him, that same expression on her face that she wore whenever she was examining a set of remains. Her close scrutiny was obviously lost on him, for he was gazing off into the distance, keeping an eye on their surroundings. He _had_ been watching. How had he missed the fact that they were being followed?

The police station. She was on her own in this one, peering out the glass paneled doors to the street beyond. She looked so alone, lost almost. He wondered where he'd been at that exact moment. Was he just a few steps behind her, just out of sight? Was he in the next room? It didn't matter; all that mattered was that he hadn't been _there_. And the fact that he hadn't known he was leaving her so vulnerable to some psycho stalker…it made Booth want to put his fist through something…or someone.

The lecture hall. Whoever this sicko was, he'd been close enough to both of them to capture the excited gleam in her eyes as she pointed to a slide on the wall behind her. The bastard had been in the room, for God's sake. Booth nearly screamed in frustration.

Instead, he braced himself against the full-body shudder which shook him to his core, and clenched his teeth together.

On the back of that last photo, in thick, black writing was a message Booth could not ignore: **Last Chance**.

"I'm calling in the FBI."

"Now, Agent Booth, I assure you that we're very close to apprehending a subject here." Westin was nervous. Booth didn't need a consult from Sweets to figure that one out. His face was pale. He was wringing his hands.

"How close is close? Do you even have any idea who this guy is?" Booth asked, waving the last picture in front of Westin's face.

"Well, er, umm…"

Booth took a deep breath and let it out. He had to think rationally. He glanced at Temperance, saw the vulnerability and trust in her big blue eyes, and all rational thought fled him. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and never let her go.

"Twelve hours," he heard himself say. "If I don't see an arrest by then, I'm calling in a team."

It was a half-truth at best. Twelve hours was far too long. But he'd give the guy a second chance, and he wouldn't let Bones out of his sight in the meantime.

He turned back to look at the Captain, who was nodding his agreement.

"Twelve hours," Westin said.

One wrong move, Booth thought. Just one wrong move and Westin's part in this investigation was over. He wouldn't risk his partner's life because this lousy excuse for a hillbilly law enforcer was inept. No. He wouldn't risk any part of her. Not ever.

* * *

"Booth, I'd like to go upstairs and change for the book signing now."

She watched him spin to stare at her, incredulity clear in his warm brown eyes.

"You can't possibly think you're still going to that, can you?"

She found her hands moving to her hips and her eyebrows drawing down in irritation.

"Of course, I'm still going. It's one of the reasons I'm here in Vermont in the first place."

"Bones, someone has been following us for the past three days, or has that escaped your notice? How am I supposed to know these weren't taken through the scope on a rifle?"

She felt her cheeks flame with color. Angry color, that is.

"We've been through this before. Remember a couple of years ago when someone was using my book as a blueprint for murder and Sully didn't want me to make any public appearances? But you said…"

He took a couple of steps towards her, so that she had to tip her head back a little to look up at him.

"That was a completely different situation, Bones, and you know it."

"No, it…"

"You were not the target in that case. The idiot worshipped you, he wasn't about to kill you. You and I both know that's not the case here. You're not leaving this building."

He turned away as if that were the end of the discussion. She shook her head and took a few steps towards the door.

"If that's what you think," she called back over her shoulder, "then you don't know me very well."

She heard his growl exactly half a second before she felt his hand on her arm, spinning her around. His brown eyes had turned black, and although she knew that it was the stress of the situation causing his pupils to dilate, it still unnerved her a bit.

"Please, Bones. Please think about this rationally. I can protect you better here. There are too many unknowns out there. Please, just wait until I can get a team in here."

His eyes pled with her, and she almost nodded and gave in to his well-meaning advice. Almost.

"Rationally, if this person has been following us, then he knows where I'm staying and all of my plans for the coming week. It's not exactly a secret. He'll know where I'm going to be either way. I'm no safer here than anywhere else."

"Bones, I…"

"I'm going, Booth. And that's that."

"No, you're not."

"I can take care of myself, Booth."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with an upraised hand.

"And—if I can't—I trust you to do it for me," she finished quietly.

Again, his mouth opened, but no words came out. He simply watched her, and she wished—not for the first time—that she were better at reading people. Finally, he shook his head, rubbed his brow line and turned back to Westin.

"I want four uniforms present at the book store. Two stay with her, the other two posted at the doors. Anyone questionable shows up, they answer to me."

Westin nodded.

"I'll do as you ask because I think it's a good move, but remember that this is my investigation…"

"And this is my partner," Booth interrupted him. "And you're gonna help me keep her alive. Got it?"

"Agent Booth, while I appreciate your concern…"

Booth held up a hand, and Westin stopped talking.

"This is your investigation for the next eleven and a half hours, and if anything happens to her in that time, I'm holding you accountable."

She was about to say something about them talking about her as if she weren't present in the room, but the look on Booth's face stopped her. His eyes were hard and cold as he gazed at the captain. He towered over the other man, and he used his height to his advantage, staring down his nose at Westin. Booth was in 'G-man intimidation mode' as Angela liked to call it, and Temperance was surprised to admit that even _she_ was intimidated.

"You really want that?" Booth asked in a deadly calm voice.

Westin's head was shaking back and forth. "We'll do what you say. I don't want anything to happen to Dr. Brennan."

Westin was clearly not an alpha male if he was bending to Booth's will so easily. Of course, according to her own observations, Booth was just about the _ultimate_ alpha male, so…

"Good. I'm glad to have your cooperation."

When Westin simply nodded and continued to stand there watching them, Booth turned and grabbed Brennan's elbow, ushering her towards the door. He paused in the doorway.

"Eleven and a half hours, Captain Westin. I suggest you get to work."

* * *

"You are _not_ wearing that."

She glanced down at her attire as if really not seeing any problem with it. Booth had to admit, she probably wasn't seeing what he was when she looked at herself in the mirror.

"What's wrong with it?"

"I...it's…it's too…blue," he said with a sharp nod. "Yeah, I mean, it's too blue, it…"

It was blue, he'd give it that. It brought out the color of her eyes like freaking magic. It wasn't the color, however, that had him ready to pull a caveman, flip her over his shoulder, and lock her in the bedroom. Then again…

He shook his head and focused back on the problem at hand. And that was the highly inappropriate amount of skin which his partner's blouse was currently revealing.

"Booth, how in the world can it be too blue? It's just a blouse."

Yeah and those jeans were just jeans, too, right? They weren't very expensive denim leg-enhancers. My God, her legs went on forever. And when they finally did deem it appropriate to end, there were those three inch heels to deal with. He swallowed with some difficulty and brought his eyes back to her face.

Be truthful, he told himself. Be as straightforward as possible, and she'll get it.

"There might be kids at this thing, Bones," he heard himself say, and nearly smacked himself in the head.

A slow grin spread over her face and he knew he was in for it.

"Are you saying, Agent Booth, that you deem my attire as inappropriate for children."

He swallowed once more and nodded. Not just kids, he thought. Also, anything with a Y chromosome.

"Right," she said with a nod, taking a few steps towards him. "Does it make you want to…practice?"

Oh God. Oh good Lord, what had he done to deserve this? His throat was so dry he was having trouble drawing breath, his heart was pounding, and there was an unavoidable tightness to his pants. He felt like a damn teenager at prom.

"Uh…"

"You did say we could…practice…later," she hedged.

Was she _trying_ to make him loose it? She had to know what she was doing to him. She wasn't _that_ naïve. At least not when it came to men. Just what the hell was she playing at?

"Bones, it's not…this isn't…" He took a deep breath and tried again. "You want to go to this book signing, don't you?"

At her nod, he continued. "Good, then go find something to…censor…your outfit there, and we'll get going."

She watched him for a few moments, her seductive smile fading into something more vulnerable. Damn it. Her confusion was plain in her soft blue eyes. Why the hell did this have to be so complicated?

"Alright," she said, then she turned around and headed back into the bedroom.

Booth sunk down on the couch with a groan. He hated it when she went all quiet and helpless-looking like that. Because she wasn't helpless. If there was one thing his Bones wasn't, it was helpless. Except, it seemed, when it came to the people she cared about. And even if she didn't know it, she cared about him.

He knew she was afraid of losing those she was closest to. Lord knew she'd lost enough people to legitimize that fear. And no matter how hard he tried, it seemed he couldn't make her believe that he was here to stay. When she went all wide-eyed like that, it was like she was afraid she'd made a wrong move; like if she messed up even the tiniest bit, they'd all abandon her. And that was the last thing he wanted her to think. She could mess up all she wanted with him, and he wasn't going anywhere.

And he knew that he wasn't helping the situation any. He'd be the first to remind her that anything…romantic, between them was totally out of the question. And then he'd gone ahead and told her they could 'practice'. What a frickin' asshole.

She finally came out of the bedroom, muttering under her breath something about a line and blondes. She'd put some kind of lacy top under the blouse, and the creamy lace peaking up from behind the blue silk nearly made Booth's eyes cross.

"Better?" She asked.

He nodded slowly. It wasn't, not by any means. Because he knew what that lace was attempting to hide, and the delicate, feminine fabric against her soft, smooth, pale skin was enough to make any man forget how to breathe.

He glanced at his watch. It'd have to do or they were going to be late.

"Great, Bones. You look great," he told her.

Then, with a hand at the base of her spine, he ushered her out of the hotel room and down the hall to the elevator.

"I want to get there a little early and make sure everyone's in place. I wanna have a feel of the place before everyone else starts to show up."

She nodded like that made sense. He knew it didn't; at least not to her.

He smiled gently and wrapped his arm more fully around her slim waist.

"You think Hart might show up to this thing?" He asked in her ear. He knew he was just cementing his jerk-like status, but he couldn't stand that unsure, lost look in her eyes. He had to do something to let her know they were okay.

She froze a moment before turning to look up at him.

"He might," she ventured cautiously.

He squeezed her to him more tightly as the elevator stopped at the garage and the doors slid open. "Good."

He saw her eyes narrow out of the corner of his eye.

"Why is that good?"

He shrugged, their bodies sliding against each other in the process. He felt her shiver and had to suppress a grin. "We can put our practice to good use."

He beeped the SUV unlocked and ushered her to her side.

She stopped him from opening her door with a hand on his forearm. "We didn't really get in all that much practice," she remarked with a small smile.

"No?" He asked, tipping his head to the side as if he had to think about that. "Huh. I guess we didn't."

He didn't know what he was doing. His brain seemed to have short-circuited somewhere between the hotel room and...wherever it was they were now. All he knew was that when his eyes found hers, he heard her breath catch in a small, adorable gasp and that was it, his control was shattered.

"Booth?" She breathed.

"Bones."

His lips found hers unerringly. He tried to keep it soft, gentle. A simple brushing of lips. Her mouth opened slightly on a sigh and he slipped his tongue over her parted lips. God, she tasted good, better than he'd remembered.

They shouldn't be doing this, he told himself. It wasn't really practice, and he at least knew that. And there was that line.

He couldn't make himself care as her hands came up to grasp the open collar of his jacket and her teeth nipped at his bottom lip. He opened for her and her tongue swept in, bringing his blood to a boil. He held her closer, one hand at her waist, the other at the back of her neck. Their tongues dueled, their lips fought, their teeth clashed. It was as if every other aspect of their relationship translated to _this_. The taunting, the teasing, the banter and tension. It was all here, making this so…intense, so…erotic that he couldn't have pulled away if he'd wanted to. He hadn't planned any aspect of the kiss, had in fact tried his damndest to avoid it, but he was helpless to stop it now.

"Booth," she gasped against his lips.

He pulled back slightly to see her eyes dilated and her hair tousled.

"Temperance."

"Are we still practicing?"

He didn't have an answer.

God, what was he doing? They both knew this wasn't right, wasn't possible between them. In their line of work…

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? Certainly not himself.

He already cared more about her than he had anyone…ever—save Parker. How in the hell would a relationship change that?

_She could get scared_, a small voice in the back of his mind told him. _She could run from you. You could lose her._

He refused to think about it.

He shook his head and finally met her eyes.

"We, uh…we have to go."

And with that, he reached around her, opened the door, and unceremoniously lifted her onto the seat. In her still-dazed state, she allowed it.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought! I'll try my hardest to have the next chapter up by next week.


	11. Of Brains and Hearts

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through the current season 4 episode (Mayhem on the Cross) just to be safe

A/N: So sorry for the really long wait. I hope this extra long chapter makes up for it!

* * *

An hour later, she was sitting at a fold-up table, smiling up at an admiring fan. Booth was at her back, warm and steady and comforting. And obviously everything she wasn't allowed to have in a man.

Her head was still reeling over the kiss they'd shared and Booth's reaction afterwards. He'd completely ignored her question. Was it still just 'practice' to him? She knew she wasn't that great an actress. Maybe he was worried she'd screw it all up if they ever had to act for Hart or anyone else here. Maybe he was just preparing her.

She didn't really believe that. Booth wasn't the type to push for intimacy in these situations. He'd rather wing it than blur that line he was so adamant about. But where was the line now? And how long before he realized it had disappeared and drew a new one?

She hated to admit that she wished he had lost the line-drawing marker.

Normally she could handle temporary intimacy with men. They fulfilled their biological needs, and then went their separate ways. But this was Booth. And there was no going their separate ways. They worked together. They were friends. And as much as she wanted to deny it, the very thought of being without him made her chest feel tight and her fake smile falter momentarily. God, she'd never ever felt this way before. She always kept her distance from men, knowing that as soon as she got close, they'd disappear. But not with Booth. She'd never expected to feel this close to Booth. She'd never seen it coming, and so she hadn't been able to stop it.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Brennan. I really am your biggest fan. I can't even tell you…"

She tuned out the twenty-something college student and took a book from the next person in line. The signing was becoming tedious. Her wrist ached and her signature was beginning to look more like Tinnpeince Biiman.

She felt Booth's large, warm hand on her shoulder and then his mouth was next to her ear, his breath warm on her cheek. "Just half an hour more, Bones. You can do it."

She could hear the soft smile in his voice and her own lips tipped up at the corners in reaction.

His hand squeezed her shoulder gently, and then slowly slid down her arm before leaving her. She suppressed a shiver.

"Tempe!" She was drawn out of her reverie by the near shout from the man in front of her. Her gaze slid up from the book she'd just signed and met the too-green eyes of Logan Hart.

"Logan," she said evenly.

"I need to speak to you, Temperance. It's very important."

He looked positively frantic. His eyes were wild, his hands running through his hair in agitation. He spoke to her through tight lips and he kept glancing behind him as if expecting someone to charge them at any moment.

"What do you want, Hart?" Booth spoke up from behind her.

"I need to speak to Temperance. I really must…"

Booth's hand was back on her shoulder, restraining now, as if he thought she might jump up from her chair and follow Hart into the back room. She rolled her eyes. Did he really think she was that stupid?

"You'll have to wait until after the signing. Stick around and we'll meet with you then," Booth told the other man.

"I really must insist. It's very important that I…"

Temperance was already shaking her head. "I have to finish the signing, Logan. You really must step aside and let the next person through."

She smiled tightly at the impatient-looking woman behind Hart.

"Temperance, I…"

"Hart, don't make me have you arrested," Booth growled.

Hart threw up his hands and shook his head at them. "You'll be sorry you didn't talk to me. Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, he spun on his heel and stomped away.

Temperance felt Booth lean over and heard him whisper to the cop to their left. "Radio your guys and have someone pick him up."

* * *

Booth was working on his last thread of patience when the bookstore owner finally announced the last ten minutes of the book signing. Thank God.

He hadn't stepped more than a few feet from Temperance's side all evening. He wasn't taking anymore chances. He'd be damned if she'd leave his side even to use the restroom. She'd just have to deal with it; he was her new shadow.

"Dr. Brennan," Captain Westin said, stepping up beside the table with a nod to each of them. "Agent Booth. Just thought I'd stop by and inform you that the anthropology student, ah, Nathan Waltham, his alibi checked out. He's not our guy."

Booth nodded. "Thanks for letting us know. Did your guys pick up Hart yet?"

Westin looked a bit sheepish. "We didn't catch him. And we've got no real reason to hold him. It's not like we can go into his house and arrest him with no probable cause. You watched the interview. You agreed that he probably wasn't our guy. My hands are tied, Agent Booth."

Booth gritted his teeth. Realistically, he knew there was red tape that the Captain just couldn't cut through at the moment. He also knew that if he was in charge of this investigation, however, the technicalities wouldn't matter; he'd have Hart in an interrogation room right now demanding to know just what exactly he'd wanted to tell Bones so badly.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Loughlin," he heard Bones remark and he glanced up to find the older professor sporting a wide grin and a twenty-year-old suit coat. He hadn't even seen the guy approach the table.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Brennan?"

"Umm…" she paused and Booth heard the uncertainty in her voice, though he was sure no one else would. "I'm not exactly sure of my plans at the moment," she finished with a smile.

"Of course, of course. Well, I'll be seeing you around then."

Booth watched the man head out the doors into the quickly-clearing parking lot.

"I'll catch up with you two later," Westin said before following Loughlin out of the store.

Booth watched the store owner and employees as they started ushering the stragglers out the doors. Bones signed a few more books, gave a few more bright smiles, then the place was empty and the doors were closed and Booth heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"You ready to get out of here?" he leaned down to ask his partner.

"Just a few moments, Booth. I need to gather my things and say thank you to the owner."

He nodded and watched her put her stuff back in her shoulder bag before moving away from him to find the shop owner.

Not ten minutes later, they were breathing the fresh air in the parking lot and discussing whether or not to grab a cup of coffee at the diner they'd found.

"But there's no pie, Bones. What's coffee without pie?"

She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes more grey than blue tonight. "Coffee," she finally said.

He had to roll his eyes. No way was she not being purposely obtuse.

"Bones…"

"Kidding, Booth," she said with a grin. "Let's go find you some pie."

He beeped the SUV unlocked and opened the door for his partner.

"Apple pie," he clarified.

Her eyes twinkled in the light from the streetlamp about 200 yards away.

"Yes, Booth, apple pie."

"And maybe," he said, leaning in towards her, "maybe you'll try a bite."

Her voice was low and husky when she answered. "Perhaps I will."

His heart thumped wildly in his chest. His mind flashed back to that long-ago conversation with Sweets about how his offering pie to Brennan was about some kind of seduction or something. God, it certainly felt like that now.

He stepped back to let her close the door and something caught his eye.

If it had been any brighter outside, he would have missed it. If they had parked under the streetlamp like he'd wanted to, it would have completely escaped his notice. As it was, the red blinking light reflecting off the asphalt beneath the SUV brought his heart up into his throat and his mind reeling.

"Bones," he choked out frantically, "get out of the car."

"Wha…"

"Bones. Temperance, Jesus Christ, get out of the car."

He didn't give her time to question him again. Before she could even get her head around to look at him, he had her out of the car and was shoving her across the parking lot ahead of him. He threw himself on top of her and clutched her tightly to him just as the explosion rocked the air around them.

There was a moment in which he was sure he'd been quick enough, sure enough, strong enough. He'd saved her. Then a sharp pain radiated through the back of his head and the world went black.

* * *

The sound of the explosion ebbed and was replaced by the squeal of sirens, and still Temperance lay there with Booth on top of her. Neither moved.

God, that had been close. Way too close.

She clutched him more tightly to her, her fingers grasping at the material of his jacket. "Booth."

There was no answer.

"Booth, we're okay. You can get off of me now."

Still nothing from the man on top of her.

"Booth, please, answer me."

Her hands slid up from his arms to the back of his neck and higher so that she could turn his face towards her. Warm stickiness stopped her in her tracks. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, wishing she didn't know what that was.

Blood.

"Booth," she shouted, a bit more frantic this time. "Booth, wake up. You have to wake up, Booth."

She rolled them over slowly, keeping her hand on the back of his head. She slid him off of her and onto the ground on his stomach. He was all in one piece, not even a hole in his expensive jacket. All whole…except the back of his head, where a piece of debris had carved a sizeable gash into his skull.

"Oh God, Booth."

Ambulances and fire trucks screeched to a halt nearby and still she held him, his blood seeping out onto her hands, her arms, her blouse.

"Booth," she whispered.

Hoses were extended, axes put to good use and still Temperance ignored them. EMTs shouted at her to step back so they could see to the damage, but she just shook her head.

"Ma'am, you need to let us at him."

"Booth."

"That's his name, ma'am? Booth?"

She blinked up at the uniformed man. "Agent Booth," she said quietly. "Agent Seeley Booth. He's FBI."

The man's lips tipped up at the corners in a comforting smile. "FBI, huh? Well, then I'm sure he's had worse than this, right?"

Temperance blinked once more. "Yes, I suppose he has."

"Well, then I'm sure your friend here will be able to pull through this one. Now, you need to move away and let us at him or we can't help him, okay?"

She nodded slowly, logic finally overriding her emotions. Of course she needed to move. She wasn't properly trained to tend to Booth's injury. She had to let the EMTs do their job and save her partner.

"Of course," she said and let another EMT help her up and away from Booth.

The night became a blur. Someone bandaged her minor abrasions. The fire was put out. Booth was transferred to a gurney and rolled towards the back of an ambulance.

"I'm going with him," she heard herself shout.

"Are you family?" The EMT nearest her asked.

She stared at him.

"I'm his partner. I'm going with him."

The original EMT, the one that had gotten her to let go of Booth, nodded and motioned her over to him at the back of the ambulance.

"Get in," he told her and she did.

The ride to the hospital seemed interminable. Booth was stable, but still unconscious. Temperance just kept reminding herself that he'd been through worse. He'd be okay this time.

They wouldn't let her follow him through the swinging doors once they reached the hospital. A nurse held her back at the waiting room and handed her a clipboard of papers.

"We need you to fill these out. They're just going to stitch him back up and start an IV, okay? Someone will come get you when you can see him."

And so the waiting began. She was calm at first, relying on her reason to keep her from thinking about the what-ifs and the could-bes. Odds were he hadn't lost that much blood. They'd stitch him up and he'd be fine. Totally reasonable, totally logical.

She filled out the paperwork.

It was when she got to the part about next of kin and power of attorney that she began to break down. It was all too real, too horrible. It caught her like a punch in the gut. He could die.

_Be reasonable, Temperance,_ she told herself. _Becoming emotional again won't change anything. It won't make Booth alright. _

The admonishments didn't work. _"Put the heart in overdrive,"_ she heard Booth say. And so she did.

Tears were trickling from the corners of her eyes when she finally handed the clipboard back to the nurse. The older woman gave her a sympathetic smile, and then went to work entering the information into her computer.

Temperance went back to her chair. And sobbed. Booth couldn't leave her now. She needed him. Not just as a partner, as a friend. And anything else they might or might not become in the future. She cried more at the thought of no future at all with Booth.

"Ms. Brennan?"

Temperance spun to find a man in a white coat watching her with concerned eyes.

"Dr. Brennan," she corrected automatically. The sadness in his eyes caught her then and she gasped. "Booth. Is Booth okay?"

His eyes widened and surprise. "Yes, yes he's fine. A…are _you_?"

She shook her head. "Can I see him? I need to see him."

He nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, he should be waking up any minute now."

He led her quickly through a set of doors and down a long hallway. He paused at a closed door and looked back at her.

"Your friend is fine, Dr. Brennan. He lost a bit of blood, so we've got him on fluids and we'd like him to get some rest. He has a concussion, so he'll need to be woken every hour or so."

She nodded quickly, the tears pouring out in earnest now. She knew it wasn't rational. The doctor had just told her that Booth would be okay. But her heart told her that she needed to see him for herself before she'd accept it.

The doctor pushed the door open and she stepped around him and into the dimly lit room. She barely registered the door slipping shut behind her.

Booth was on the bed, his eyes closed. A white bandage around his head stood out in stark contrast to his bronzed skin.

Temperance couldn't take her eyes off of him as she moved across the room to his side.

Tears still leaked out at odd intervals, but the sight of his broad chest rising and falling in rhythm, the beep beep of the heart monitors, the healthy glow of his skin, made her breath come more easily.

"Bones."

She reached up gently and took his hand into her own. "I'm here, Booth."

"Bones?"

"Yes, Booth."

His eyes cracked open slowly and he squinted over at her.

"You okay, Bones?"

She smiled through her tears. He was the one in a hospital bed, but of course _she_ was the one he was worried about.

"I'm fine, Booth. Just a couple of minor abrasions."

She lifted her arms in front of his face so that he could see the bandages.

He reached over and touched them gently before his eyes returned to her face.

"Why the tears then?" He asked quietly.

She pulled her gaze from his and stared at a spot on the wall over his left shoulder.

"I was afraid."

"I'm sure Captain Westin and his guys took good care of you," he remarked, placing a hand under her chin to turn her face back to his.

She shook her head gently within the confines of his grasp. "No, Booth. I was afraid for you."

A small grin spread across his face. "But you must have known I'd be okay, Bones. There's no doubt in my mind you demanded to see the x rays and have the doctors explain all they'd found to you."

Actually, she hadn't. Hadn't even considered it. She'd been more concerned with her emotional reaction to Booth's injury.

"I did what you suggested," she told him quietly.

"And what's that?"

"I parked my brain and took my heart for a spin," she told him with a straight face.

His responding smile was brilliant. "Bones, that's not…" He stopped talking and closed his mouth. His hand moved from her chin to her cheek and his thumb stroked back and forth gently.

"God, I love you."

Her eyes became so wide she was sure they'd pop right out of her head. Except that wasn't scientifically probable, so…

"You…you have a head injury," she told him, sitting up straight and pulling her head and her hand out of his grasp. "And you are on pain medication."

"Bones, I…"

"You need to go to sleep, Booth. You need lots of rest so that you can heal properly."

"Temperance…"

"I'll be here when you wake up," she told him.

"You…you will? Bones, why don't you call Captain Westin and have him take you back to the hotel? You'd be more comfortable there. I mean…"

She shook her head. "I'm staying with you. I know, logically, that you'll be fine, but in my heart, I feel I need to be here with you."

She watched as his mouth opened and closed like that of a fish.

"Besides," she said quietly, "you promised to protect me. And you can't very well do that if you're here and I'm there, now can you?"

He shook his head, his mouth still hanging open.

"Good, now go to sleep, Booth."

"Bones…"

"Sleep, Booth."

He blinked at her a few times before his charm smile crept slowly into place. "On one condition."

"And what's that?" She asked suspiciously.

"Come here."

She scooted her chair in closer to his bed.

"Closer."

Her eyes narrowed, but she did as he asked, bringing her chair right up next to the bed and leaning forward with her elbows on the mattress.

He shook his head.

"Closer."

"Booth, I can't…"

"Closer, Bones. I want you closer."

"Booth, the only way for me to get any closer would be to climb into the bed with you."

He nodded, his charm smile so wide it made his eyes crinkle with merriment. "Exactly."

"Booth, I…"

"Closer, Bones."

She watched him for long moments, trying to determine what his motivation might be, trying to ascertain as to why he would want her in his bed.

"I'll hurt you," she said halfheartedly.

"Bones, it's a head wound. Unless you plan on sleeping on my head…"

Their eyes caught and held and she slowly nodded. In the end, it didn't matter why he wanted her there, she wanted to be there.

She climbed up onto the bed and lay stiffly next to him.

"C'mere, Bones. I won't bite." With that, he tugged her up against him until he was spooning her from behind and settled them with a sigh.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones."

She shivered at the feel of his warm breath against the back of her neck. It took her a moment to recover.

"I guess you're calling in the FBI, then?"

She could hear the grin in his voice, could feel it against the back of her neck.

"You guess correctly, my dear Bones, you guess correctly."

* * *

A/N: I was going to leave you another cliffie, but I thought you'd all kill me if you'd thought I'd killed Booth. You're welcome. Thanks so much for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought!


	12. Of Fear and Confusion

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through the Season 4 finale just to be safe.

A/N: First of all, I'd like to apologize profusely for the extremely long wait between chapters. School kicked my ass towards the end of the semester. It seemed I didn't have a free moment at all between work, final papers, projects, and exams. I promise now that school is out, updates will come much more frequently. I'd also like to thank everyone who has been reading and commenting. I realized I've been forgetting to say thanks in my A/N's and I have had nooo time to respond individually. Honestly, you guys are the ones who keep me writing. Without you I would have given up long before now. But I could never do that to you :) So this chapter goes out to all of you. Thanks! And enjoy!

* * *

"Mmm, Bones."

He rolled onto his side towards her and felt…nothing.

"Bones?" Booth's eyes snapped open and he jolted up in bed. His sharp eyes took in the open bathroom door and the empty chair beside the bed before he called out again just to be sure.

"Bones?"

No answer. The room was empty.

Where the hell was she? Why couldn't the woman ever stay where she was put? She was always running off to do "important" things and getting herself into trouble. Unless…what if she wasn't the one causing the trouble this time? There was still some sicko out there with a vendetta against her. And, oh God…

He was out of bed before the thought could fully form, and headed across the room to cram himself into his clothes. Gun. Where was his gun? He was shoving his feet into sneakers when the door opened behind him and he whirled around so fast his head spun.

"Booth? What do you think you're doing?"

She stood there in the doorway, head cocked to the side, one hand on her hip the other holding a foam tray with two coffees on it.

"You shouldn't be out of bed."

He stared at her a long moment before answering.

"Where were you?" He was finally able to force out.

"I went to get coffee." She held up the tray as evidence. "Why are you out of bed?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before letting it out.

"Do me a favor, Bones, and from now on, let me know if you plan to disappear."

"Wha…"

"Just promise me, Bones. There's somebody out there who wants you dead, and I wake up and you're missing. Just don't take off like that again, please." _My heart can't take much more_, he added silently.

She blinked at him, her blue-grey eyes wide. Then she nodded.

"Yes, alright."

"Good," he said with a sharp nod. "Good."

"You still shouldn't be out of bed," she reminded him.

His head did hurt like hell, but he wasn't about to admit that to her. "Bones, I'm fine," he lied. "Now let's get the hell out of here." He glanced around quickly. "Where's my gun?"

"Captain Westin has it," she informed him. "I told him I would take it, but he thought it would be better if he locked it up at the station until you could pick it up."

Booth gritted his teeth. The fucking imbecile.

"Are there cops here?" He asked her.

She shook her head. "I haven't seen any."

He felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. "You're kidding me, right? Someone tried to blow us up and he doesn't even put a couple of uniforms on us?" _And I don't have a fucking gun._

She shrugged.

"The son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath. Anything could have happened. Someone could have come in and hurt Bones while he was out cold. They could have dragged her away and he never would have known; wouldn't have been able to…

He pushed the thought from his mind. None of that had happened. They were fine. Focus, Booth.

"So, we're supposed to just chance it and drive over to the station with no firepower." He closed his eyes as the events of the previous night floated back into his head. "And what exactly are we supposed to drive?"

She sat in the chair beside the bed as he paced the room, his hand restlessly combing through his hair.

"I can call the rental agency and have them send another car," she suggested, taking a sip of her coffee. He reached over and grabbed the other cup from the tray. Tons of sugar. Just as he liked it.

He nodded. "Yeah, okay. And I'll call Cullen while you do that."

"Uh, Booth, we can't use cell phones in a hospital."

His eyes narrowed and glanced around at the hospital-y machines. "Shit. Grab your stuff," he told her as he stuffed his badge in his pocket and threw his jacket over his shoulder. "I'll get signed out and we can make our calls from the waiting area. I'm not gonna risk standing outside in the open."

"I really don't think the doctors will let you leave, Booth. You took quite a blow to the head. You really should…"

"I'm fine, Bones," he told her again. "Let's go."

Ten minutes later, he'd charmed the female doctor into letting him leave, and he and Bones were in the waiting room making their calls.

"I need agents here as soon as possible," he told Cullen. "This is getting completely out of hand and the locals are idiots."

"Most small town cops are when it comes to stuff like this. The worst they ever see is domestic abuse or teen runaways. They don't know what to do when it comes to stuff like this. I'll get you a team on the next flight out. How are you and Dr. Brennan holding up?"

He glanced over at Bones and noticed the confused look on her face as she spoke into her phone. He'd ask her what was up once he hung up with his boss.

"We're hanging in there," he told Cullen.

"Alright. Keep your head down until the backup gets there. And good luck, Agent Booth."

"Thank you, sir."

He hung up the phone just in time to hear Bones give a breathless, "Yes, thank you. Good bye." And turn to him with wide eyes. He took in her expression; confusion mixed with…fear.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

She shook her head, but it was more like she was trying to sort something out in her mind than she was answering his question.

"Bones?"

Her eyes met his, her mouth opened and closed.

"What is it?" he asked her, taking few steps closer until he could place his hands on her shoulders.

"My old rental car, the one that wouldn't start…"

He let the silence stretch for almost half a minute before he couldn't take it anymore.

"What about it, Bones?"

"It was sabotaged," she said, anger and indignation breaking through the fear and confusion. "Some lines were cut. That's why it wouldn't start."

His heart thudded in his chest as his mind sorted through all of the implications of what she was telling him.

"Booth, did you hear me? It wasn't natural wear and tear. Someone…"

"Someone didn't want you driving yourself back to the hotel that day," he finally said. His hands tightened on her shoulders and he pulled her closer as his eyes surveyed the room as if expecting to find the culprit here among the nurses in scrubs and the children with runny noses.

She was speaking to him, but his mind was buzzing with possible motives and suspects.

"Hart," he gritted out.

She paused midsentence. "What?"

"Hart drove you back that day, remember? Who else would want to strand you at the university? He probably wanted some alone time with you. Stalkers live for that kind of stuff. And then at the signing last night he…"

She brought her hands up to his forearms and squeezed gently. "Booth, this has gone far beyond stalking. Someone tried to kill us last night."

He couldn't stop himself from pulling her into his arms and leaning down to bury his face in her hair. "God, I know," he whispered.

"What are we going to do?" She asked against his shoulder.

One hand stroked her hair as the other held her tightly to his chest. He was crossing that line again, but he was damned if he'd care.

"We're going to get my gun, and then we're going to talk to Hart."

* * *

The rental car was dropped off at the door, and they brought the driver back to the rental agency before heading over to the police station. Booth was twitchy and on edge the entire way. Temperance had never seen him like this. Every time a horn blew or a dog barked, his hand would fly to the spot on his belt where his gun usually hung.

Twenty minutes later, Booth had his gun back and they'd endured a lecture from Captain Westin about the proper channels for warrants and the collecting of evidence and testimonies. Booth just rolled his eyes, told the Captain that he'd called in the FBI, and escorted her back out to the car.

"We're really going to Logan's house?" She asked as she buckled her seat belt.

"We really are."

"But Captain Westin said that we had no probable cause and that nothing you found would be admissible…"

He cut her off with an upraised hand. "I'll find probable cause, okay? Just trust me here, Bones. This guy feels off to me. He's the only one you've refused anything besides that creepy co-ed, he was mysteriously there to come to your rescue when your car was sabotaged, and he was acting freaking weird last night just before someone tried to blow us up. What did he say? That you'd regret not speaking to him? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was it. Well, a nice bomb on the undercarriage would definitely be calls for regret."

She did trust him. Implicitly. And she agreed with him; Hart did seem to be a likely suspect. But if they flew in there and found the damning evidence, what good would it do? The court would throw it out because Booth didn't have a warrant…or jurisdiction, really…

"Booth…."

"Forget it, Bones. We're checking him out."

He had a determined glint in his dark eyes that told her it was useless to argue. Booth wanted to look in on Logan; Booth was going to look in on Logan. But he was injured, and she didn't have a gun with her to back him up, and she couldn't let anything happen to him.

"Shouldn't we wait for the FBI team, I mean…"

"They might not be here until tomorrow," he told her. "This asshole could have run by then."

"He could have run by _now_," she reminded him.

"We'll see. When we get in there, you stay behind me, you got it?"

She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Don't argue with me, Bones. You don't have a weapon here, and you're the one he wants dead." It killed her, but she gave in, knowing that if he needed her to, she'd fight to the death to stop someone from hurting him. He peeked over at her long enough to see her nod of acceptance. "Good."

* * *

Hart lived in a modern one story place with grey siding and fake white shutters on the windows. The grass was green, and Mr. Hart had obviously hired a landscaper to do the yard, as was evidenced by the eclectic display of decorative trees and flowers. His car was parked in front of the garage.

"Remember, Bones, stay behind me."

"Yes, Booth, I remember. I have a very good memory."

He rolled his eyes and led the way up the walk to the front door. His eyes narrowed when he realized it was cracked open. Never, in his entire career as an FBI agent, had that ever been a good sign.

"Stay back," he whispered to Bones as he unholstered his gun and pushed the door inward with his foot.

The front room appeared untouched. It was a living room from what he could tell. The faded blue couch faced an entertainment center. There was a dark wood coffee table and two matching end tables. The lamps were obviously second-hand.

Booth moved to the door on his right. It led to a kitchen. An old, used-to-be-white fridge and oven were stuck in between the wood-paneled cabinets. A scarred wooden table and four chairs filled the center of the room. The tile was stained and cracked in places.

A door at the back of that room led to a short hallway. Bones was entering the hallway from the living room entrance when he spotted her.

"_Get_ behind me," he ordered her in a whisper.

Her eyebrows drew down, and that scowl that told him she was about to disregard his commands came onto her face.

"Do it," he gritted out. "Now."

Her eyes rolled so far back in her head he was afraid they might actually get stuck back there, but she did move behind him before poking him in the back and demanding that he continue his search.

The small bathroom at the end of the hall yielded nothing but an ugly shower curtain and a hamper full of dirty clothes.

Booth deduced that the final door led to the bedroom. He made sure that Bones was behind him where she was supposed to be before he toed the door open and glanced into the room.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Bones whispered from over his shoulder.

"Stay there," he ordered her, then peeked around the door to be sure he wasn't about to be ambushed. There was no closet, but two tall chests full of drawers. Booth was pretty sure a bad guy wouldn't be hiding in one of those.

"Can I come in yet?" Bones asked from the hallway.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Just…no, Bones. Okay?"

"Booth, is everything…"

The door was pushed open, and before he could reach it to block her view, Bones peeked into the room.

"Oh," she said shortly.

He moved quickly to her side, not sure of her reaction.

"You okay, Bones?"

She peeled her gaze away from the sight before her and her eyes met his.

"I deal with dead bodies every day, Booth."

But her voice was a bit breathy and her eyes were unfocused and he knew she wasn't totally unaffected by this.

"It's a little different when it's someone you knew…isn't it?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. In a shaky voice, she answered him, "yes, yes it is."

Booth followed her gaze back to the bed where Logan Hart lay dead, a bullet wound horribly obvious in the middle of his forehead.

Booth's mind reeled. This was it. This was where it all led. Right here to Hart. Who was conspicuously dead.

"He's not the stalker," Bones chose to point out.

Booth chose not to comment.

"He knew something," she said.

He nodded, still unable to speak. Where had he gone wrong? Where had he miscalculated? Where was the real stalker? And how long before he got what he was after? Booth's body rebelled at the thought and he had to force his jaw and his fist to unclench.

"The stalker killed him." Bones looked up at him, obviously expecting a response this time.

"Who's the investigator here?" He asked her with a half-smile, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

"We are…"

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, Bones. The stalker probably killed him."

She nodded. He glanced down to see her still watching her dead ex-boyfriend. Her lip was caught between her teeth, a very uncharacteristic action for her. And very telling. She was feeling insecure and confused and scared.

Before he could take the action himself, he felt her soft hand brush his and she intertwined their fingers. He squeezed her hand gently.

"What do we do now?" She asked.

It took a moment for him to answer her. He was too busy fighting the urge to take her into his arms and carry her the hell out of here.

"We call Westin. Then we wait for the FBI agents Cullen is sending."

He flipped his phone open as he said it and selected Westin's name from the list.

"Captain Westin," the other man answered.

"There's something you need to see. Get over to the Hart residence, now. Bring the coroner." He slammed his phone shut on the Captain's irate demand that he explain.

"C'mon," he told Bones, using their joint hands to pull her closer. "Let's go wait in the kitchen."

* * *

A/N: Dun, dun, dun! Anyone expecting this turn of events? No? Well, it is a Bones fic, so you had to know I was going to throw a dead body in there somewhere. Thanks again for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought!

On a side note: To my **Plum** fans, I've got another fic in the works! I haven't started posting it yet, but I will as soon as I've got a few more chapters written. But first, I need your help with a couple of things. Check out the poll in my profile to vote on some aspects of my new fic. The current one will be up for a week or two, and then I'll put up the next one (I think I have four, total). Thanks so much!


	13. Of Accusations and Complications

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through season 4 finale to be safe.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. You guys are the greatest fans a writer could ask for. This chapter goes out to Debi (bb4evr) and Sam (Samvalasam), whose guessing games inspired bits of this chapter. Thanks ladies! And enjoy!

* * *

"What do you think the odds are, Agent Booth, that the bullet in Mr. Hart's forehead matches the caliber of the weapon you currently have strapped to your hip?"

Booth stared at the man, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. He had to be.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, Captain, I mean I did just suffer a blow to the head, but did you not just accuse _yourself_ of murder?"

The other man opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He blinked a few times, and then finally managed to mutter, "Excuse me?"

"You've had Booth's gun all night," Bones said from where she was seated on the front stoop of Hart's home. "So if it was Booth's firearm that discharged a bullet into Logan's forehead, then it must have been you who pulled the trigger."

Westin looked so taken aback that Booth was sort of afraid he might just keel over in a dead faint.

"Did you murder Logan Hart, sir?" Bones asked in a matter of fact voice.

"I…I…I…of course not," Westin gasped.

"Well," Bones replied. "Neither did Agent Booth. So I suggest you get to work and figure out who did."

With that dismissal, she rose from the porch and walked over to the rental.

"I'll wait in the car," she called back over her shoulder.

Booth watched her until she was seated in the car with the door left cracked open to allow a breeze to enter. Then he turned to Westin.

"Listen to me carefully, Captain. There is a team of highly trained FBI agents on their way here as we speak. They do not take kindly to one of their own being wrongly accused of murder. Especially when that comrade was so recently harmed in an explosion which occurred under your _watchful_ jurisdiction. Now, I understand that this is your town and you feel obligated to solve any problem which might occur here, but I strongly suggest that you cooperate with these agents to the fullest of your ability."

Booth watched the other man through cold eyes until Westin nodded. Then he turned away and went to join Bones in the car.

* * *

Temperance watched Booth out the corner of her eye as he maneuvered the vehicle through the nearly deserted streets of the town.

"Should you really be driving?" She asked him.

"I told you, Bones, my head is fine. Not even a headache anymore."

"No dizziness?" She asked, probing the back of his head lightly. "No lightheadedness, or blurred vision, or…"

He took one hand from the wheel long enough to swat her hand away from his head.

"No, Bones. None of that."

She heard a soft buzzing sound, and then Booth reached down and unclipped his phone from his belt. He pressed a couple of buttons and then set it on the console between them.

"Booth."

"Ah, yes, Agent Booth," Captain Westin's voice echoed from the phone.

"How can I help you, Captain?"

"Um, in the spirit of…cooperation…I thought that you should know we've spoken to the man who delivered the second set of photos."

"And," Booth urged.

"He works for a delivery company on the other side of town. He said that the package arrived there while he was not on shift, so he cannot describe who brought it there. I checked with the company, and the employee who took the package does not recall enough about the man who brought it to give us a sketch. The man paid cash. There are no security cameras."

Temperance heard Booth sigh.

"Check nearby businesses for cameras that might have picked up anything."

"Yes, of course."

"Thanks for filling us in."

Booth disconnected.

"Cooperation, eh?" She asked him with a slight smile.

He rolled his eyes.

"I simply suggested that Captain Westin try his best to cooperate with the FB when they get here."

She nodded. "Any idea who Cullen is sending?"

He peeked over at her, then quickly put his eyes back on the road. He looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Uh, I think, uh, he might have said something about…Agent Perotta…"

She stared at him for a moment, and then turned her gaze out the windshield. Her mind was reeling. Why did the mere mention of that woman's name cause her stomach to tighten? She was not afraid of her. No, definitely not that. What other emotion would cause such a reaction?

"Bones?"

"Hmm?"

"You okay?"

She nodded, her gaze still fixed directly in front of her. "Fine," she muttered.

She could feel his eyes on her as they stopped at a red light. She dared not turn her head and look at him. Booth was always so good at reading her. Even when she couldn't read herself.

"Bones. Look at me."

"The light's green, Booth," she told him and finally felt his gaze lift from her as he pressed his foot to the gas and started forward.

They were silent most of the way back to the hotel.

"Who is coming with Agent Perotta?" Temperance finally asked as Booth parked in the garage behind the building.

"Agent Callaway. I think you've met him at the office. I've worked with him once or twice. He's a good agent."

She nodded.

"Will they be staying here?" She asked, indicating the hotel.

He took the keys from the ignition and turned to look at her.

"I don't know." His eyes narrowed and he seemed to be studying her. "Tell me what's up, Bones."

She tried to look confused, but she wasn't sure if she succeeded. "I don't know what you're talking about, Booth."

"Yes," he nodded, "you do."

She reached for her door handle, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Bones."

"I'm fine, Booth. It's nothing, really."

He shook his head. "You started acting weird when I mentioned Perotta's name," he told her. "I know you don't really like her, Bones, but…"

"I like her just fine," she said, annoyed to hear that her voice sounded weak and yet defensive.

"Bones…"

She spun to glare at him. "I'm simply overwhelmed by all that has happened today."

With that, she pulled her door open and slipped out of the car.

"Who would want Logan dead?" She asked, hoping to change the subject.

She felt Booth's watchful eyes on her for several moments.

He pressed the elevator's call button, then took her shoulders and set her to one side of the doors. When the ding indicated the doors opening on their floor, he stepped forward, gun drawn, and swept his eyes all over the interior of the elevator. Finally, he placed his hand at the small of her back and ushered her into the elevator.

"Could be totally unrelated," he said once they were enclosed in the metal box.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm just saying," he said with a tilt of his head, "it could be. But more likely he found out something that the stalker didn't want him to know."

"The bomb?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"He might have known the stalker's identity," she commented. "But I guess we'll never know."

He pushed her into the corner of the car as it stopped moving and the bell dinged again. His gun was out once more and he swept the lobby with his keenly aware brown eyes.

He motioned her out of the elevator and they crossed the lobby to the stairs together.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Brennan," the desk attendant called out.

She gave him a brief wave as Booth hurried her across the hall.

"Booth, why are you in such a rush?"

He didn't look at her as he answered; his eyes were too busy surveying their surroundings.

"It's too open in here. There are plenty of clear shots through the windows and doors."

They hit the stairs in tandem. He kept his hand at her waist, exerting just enough pressure to keep her moving at the steady pace. He paused outside of their room and stood her to one side of it. _This was getting really old_, she thought with a barely suppressed eye-roll.

"Stay here," he told her, then unlocked the door and moved into the hotel room.

A few minutes later, he was at the door again, ushering her inside. Only once the door was shut and securely locked did he turn to look at her.

"You sure you're okay?" He asked, concern flashing in his dark eyes.

"I'm fine, Booth."

"And you're okay with Agent Perotta being here, because I could call and…"

"No, Booth, it's fine."

He watched her closely for another minute before he nodded once and turned away.

"What do you want for lunch?" He asked.

* * *

There was something going on in her brilliant mind that he wasn't in on.

He didn't like that. And he really couldn't explain why.

Probably it wasn't any of his business. Probably it was a completely personal matter.

Definitely he didn't care one way or the other; he wanted to know what the hell was wrong with her.

He watched her as she tipped her head onto the back of the sofa and let her eyes close momentarily. Her pale neck was stretched out, practically begging for his fingers…or his mouth. He pushed the thought away like the unwanted temptation that it was. Focus, Booth, focus.

But he couldn't focus on anything but the smooth skin of her cheeks and the dark sweep of her lashes against them. Her auburn hair was all tousled curls, not at all like the smooth manufactured style it had been in earlier. He liked it better this way. It was easier to imagine she'd just gotten out of bed, all soft and warm and…

Her eyes flashed open and he was caught in the soft, blue-grey pools.

"What?" She asked around a yawn.

"Nothing."

"Why were you staring at me?"

"I…I wasn't," he said, mocking offense. "I was just…observing you. You look tired."

She watched him for a moment, her eyes hiding none of her curiosity or intelligence. She seemed to contemplate the truth of his words. Whether or not she had reached a conclusion, he'd never know. She shook her head and turned away from him.

"I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

He pictured her there in bed next to him—crushed up tightly against him—felt her there now despite the distance separating them, both physically and otherwise.

"You should have come back here to sleep."

Her head snapped around and she looked almost…hurt.

"I wanted to stay with you," she said very softly.

His heart clenched and not for the first time, he had to physically restrain himself from pulling her into his arms. God, the last thing he wanted was for her to think that he didn't want her. Couldn't she see that he always wanted her? Would always want her. However he could have her.

"I'm glad you stayed," he told her just as quietly.

They sat silently, watching each other until he couldn't stand the silence or the tension any longer.

"Why don't you go take a nap?" He asked her. "I'll be here."

She nodded slowly. "Will you wake me when the FBI team gets here? I want to be there when you brief them."

"Of course. I'd planned on taking them over to Hart's house afterwards and let the CSI team go over it with a fine-tooth comb."

"Okay."

She left the room then, closing the bedroom door quietly behind her.

He stared at the spot where she'd disappeared for long moments. This was getting beyond complicated. That line he'd created and gone over and over again with an indelible marker was starting to blur, to fade, and he couldn't seem to find the marker again—wasn't sure if he really wanted to anyway.

She meant more to him than even he could have imagined going into this thing. He thought back to the early days with a wry grin; the fighting and bickering, the glares and the rolled eyes. There was still all of that, but beneath it was a steady current of camaraderie, of respect, of…caring. They were more than just coworkers, more than friends. They were partners…equals. They complemented each other; his street smarts to her intelligence, his ease of reading people to her ease of reading bones, his Catholic upbringing and beliefs to her need for physical, definable proof. She kept him in line, she kept him sane. She knew his secrets and he knew hers. And despite their pasts, or maybe because of them, there was more understanding and compassion and feeling between them than he had ever felt with anyone else.

He rose slowly, one thought in his mind. He needed to be with her.

He'd almost lost her more times than he cared to count, but somehow this last time, the bomb in the SUV last night, had brought it all home for him. He needed her. He was headed towards the bedroom, determination and resolve at the forefront of his mind, when his cell phone buzzed on his hip. He took it from its case without pausing in his stride and flipped it open just as he pushed the bedroom door silently open.

"Yeah," he whispered softly.

"Why, hello, Agent Booth. Am I interrupting something?"

Perotta.

His eyes slid closed even as he stepped back into the sitting room and pulled the bedroom door closed behind him.

"Agent Perotta," he said. "Have you guys arrived yet?"

She chuckled lightly. "I guess I'll take your ignoring my question as a positive. And yes, we're on our way from the airport."

"Good," he said, slumping against the wall beside the bedroom door. Maybe it was better that he'd been interrupted. He told himself that all he'd wanted was to slip into bed with her and fall asleep, but he was pretty sure he was kidding himself.

"We weren't able to get a room at the hotel you and Dr. Brennan are at," Perotta told him.

Good, he thought with an inaudible sigh. Because that was just another complication he didn't need. Perotta was a good agent, and a great woman, not to mention easy on the eyes, and she knew it. Her flirting was harmless most of the time, but Bones already felt uncomfortable having her here and he didn't want that feeling amplified. He was beginning to think that Bones's feelings came mostly from jealousy, but that might have been wishful thinking. Either way, Booth wasn't really up to dealing with Perotta in a more than professional aspect right now anyway.

"Where are you staying?"

"Next town over had two rooms that just opened up."

"Lucky you," he said. "There weren't any at all when I got here."

"Hmmm." He could hear the grin in her voice. He ignored it.

"Call me when you get settled in and Bones and I will take you over to the crimes scenes."

"Alright," Perotta said with a sigh. "The CSI team from the Montpelier office will be headed this way in an hour or so. We'll see you then."

Booth flipped his phone shut and stared down at it for a moment. In another lifetime, one where Temperance Brennan didn't exist, Payton Perotta might have been a nice distraction, probably not a long-lasting one, but an interesting one to say the least. Now, the thought just didn't do anything for him.

He glanced up at the closed bedroom door. He should probably just knock on the door and tell her to be ready in about an hour. Yes, that's exactly what he should do.

He stared a moment longer, and then put his hand on the doorknob and turned, pushing the door open once more. This time he didn't pause, he moved quietly into the room and stared down at his sleeping partner. Her beauty never ceased to stun him breathless. Especially now as she lay there, so sweet and soft and innocent.

He knelt by the side of the bed and raised a hand to her face. The first caress was on impulse. The next was to fulfill the almost overwhelming urge to touch her again.

"Bones," he said softly, his hand stilling on her cheek. "Bones, time to wake up."

Her eyes blinked open slowly and when her sleep-fogged brain finally recognized him, a soft smile spread across her face.

"Booth," she whispered.

And the damn line disappeared.

* * *

A/N: Thanks again for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought!

And don't forget to vote on my Plum poll. You don't even need to be a Plum fan to do so. I just need help choosing names, so all you need to know is that these guys are ex-military, mercenary types (good-guy mercenary types) who work for a man named Ranger who runs a security company called Rangeman. Oh, and they're all really hot (Rangemen always are). So go vote please!


	14. Of Passion and Jealousy

A/N: Okay, I am sooooo sorry for the wait, truly I am. Writers block is killing me as far as this story is concerned. Maybe it's the lack of new Bones episodes to grease the wheels, I don't know. Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for it!

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And since it's been so long:

_Previously in The Ex at the University:_

_Bones went to Vermont to speak at a university, ran into an ex-boyfriend who continued to pursue her despite her protests, called Angela for advice, and got our favorite knight in FBI issued body armor as a solution. Booth showed up, moved into her hotel room, posed as her boyfriend, and took her out on the town a bit. Enter creepy stalker. A bunch of creepy, threatening photos showed up at the hotel, ex-boy kept pursuing, there was some "practicing" between Booth and Bones, and more photos showed up. There was a book signing, ex-boy said he had something important to tell Bones, Booth's SUV went 'boom', and he got a bad knock on the head. Booth survived (of course), called in the FBI, found out Bones's car was sabotaged, and discovered a dead body (ex-boy). Agents Perotta and Callaway showed up…_

_Oh yeah, and the damn line disappeared._

* * *

He wasn't aware of making the decision to do it, but in the next breath, his mouth was on hers, soft and warm and coaxing. He knew a moment of heart thumping anticipation, and then her lips parted and she began to respond. A satisfied, nearly feral groan issued from the back of his throat and he deepened the kiss.

He was barely aware of the hard, carpeted floor beneath his knees or the soft sheets crumpled by his elbows. Her fingers threaded through his hair and suddenly all that existed were him and Temperance and the rush of passion swirling between them.

Her little moan of pleasure urged him closer and he found himself half on the bed, on top of her, with her hands grappling for purchase on his back. They found their way beneath his shirt and they both shuddered at the first skin on skin contact.

"Booth," he heard her whisper as his lips traveled lower to traverse the length of her pale throat.

"Mmm, no, Seeley," he told her and sucked on the spot where her neck met her smooth shoulder.

"Seeley," she gasped. "But…but what about the line?"

He growled low in his throat. "Screw the damn line. I made it up because I was…"

The sound of a knock on the door reached him, faint through the heat they'd created.

"You were what?"

"Temperance, I was…"

Another knock, louder this time. Booth groaned.

"Perhaps we should answer that," Bones whispered.

He lifted his head from her shoulder and peered down into her stormy eyes.

"Temperance…" His gaze searched hers. Was she as confused as he was? More so? Had he completely ruined their perfect partnership?

"I'm fine, Booth," she told him just as his cell phone joined the cacophony. "You answer that, and I'll get cleaned up."

"Temperance, this isn't finished," he said, motioning between them. "We _will_ talk about this later."

She nodded, giving him that indulgent smile of hers, and he knew that she thought he was bluffing. Well, she had a thing or two to learn then, because he _would_ continue this interlude just as soon as they were alone again.

His phone buzzed again; there was another knock on the door. He placed a kiss on her forehead and pushed to a standing position.

"Booth," he said tersely once he'd gotten the phone to his ear.

He watched Temperance climb out of bed and head for the attached bathroom.

"Why, hello, Agent Booth, very nice of you to answer your phone," Payton Perotta's voice said from the other end.

He ignored her attempt at flirtation, exited the bedroom, and headed for the door.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that…"

He pulled the door open and stared out at the two agents standing there.

"…we're here. But then, you already know that." She gifted him with a large grin and then pushed him aside and entered the room.

"What kept you?" she asked as she took in the sitting room and the closed bedroom door.

Again, he ignored her implications. "Is the CSI team here?"

Her eyes slid back to him and seemed to assess as she took a seat on the sofa.

"They'll meet us at the crime scene. I told them to go ahead and get started. Figured the locals probably messed it up enough as it is. Besides, you were the first one there, so I assumed you'd made notes on what you found."

He nodded and turned back to the second agent standing silent and stoic against the wall. But then, that was Mitch Callaway for you, never opening his mouth unless he had something important to say. So completely opposite his partner, Booth wondered how they worked together. But then he thought of the partnership he shared with Bones and how completely opposite they were in every respect, and he decided perhaps that was one of the things that made good partners. As Sweets had once told them, they complemented each other. Maybe that's the way it was with Perotta and Callaway, too.

"How's it going, Callaway?" Booth asked, sticking his hand out to the other man.

"Not too bad, Booth," Callaway answered, taking his hand for a brief shake.

"Where's Dr. Brennan?" Perotta asked from the sofa, a teasing lilt to her voice.

"Right here," he heard Bones say, and swung around to find her in the doorway to the bedroom looking cool and refreshed and completely in control. And way too kissable, his subconscious mind told him. He shoved that thought away.

"Bones, you know Agent Perotta," he said.

His partner nodded and gave a small forced smile in Perotta's general direction. "Agent Perotta."

"Dr. Brennan," Perotta said with a small tip of her head.

"And this is Agent Callaway," Booth said to Bones. "Callaway, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

The two stepped forward to shake hands, and Booth watched as the corners of Callaway's lips tipped up in a cool smile.

"A pleasure, Dr. Brennan," he said quietly.

"Yes," Bones said, withdrawing her hand, "of course, Agent Callaway."

"Please, call me Mitch."

Booth tamped down on the beast threatening to burst forth and rip Callaway to shreds.

"No, thank you, Agent Callaway. I prefer to keep the workplace professional."

She dismissed him with a tight smile and a nod and moved forward until she was standing next to Booth. The monster went back to sleep and he resisted the urge to grin like an idiot. Now was not the time to stake a claim, he told himself. That would definitely have to wait until this stalker/murderer business was through.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked Bones.

She looked up at him and he was caught once more in the blue-grey maelstrom of her eyes. He clamped down on the part of his mind that told him to toss her over his shoulder and carry her back into the bedroom.

"Ready when you are," she replied brightly.

"And I've been ready for half an hour," Agent Perotta put in from across the room.

* * *

Booth was unusually quiet as they made their way back to Logan Hart's house. She tried to engage him in conversation twice, but both times she was greeted with a few one word answers, and then silence. She got the feeling that he was trying to refocus himself on the task at hand.

She had to admit that the brief interlude between them earlier had left her just as shaken as it seemed to have left him. She had only just begun to recognize her feelings for Seeley Booth as something more than friendly caring, and then he'd gone and erased his infamous "line" by kissing her so passionately. She felt totally out of her depth in this new ocean she found herself swimming in, without even a blow-up inner-tube to keep her afloat. What was she to do now that the lines and boundaries that had almost always existed between them had been wiped away? How was she supposed to react? She didn't know, and that scared her more than anything.

They pulled to the curb in front of the house, Callaway and Perotta sliding to a stop behind them.

"If you don't want to go back in there, Bones…"

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I'm prepared now. It was just a bit of a shock the last time."

He placed a hand on her knee and smiled gently over at her. "C'mon, then."

Perotta and Callaway were already at the door, talking with what had to be the head crime scene investigator. Perotta was serious and professional once more. Gone was the silly flirt who had sat in her and Booth's hotel room not twenty minutes ago.

"Any useable fingerprints?" she asked as they approached.

"Plenty. Of course, we'll have to rule out all of the cops and the coroner who were here earlier before we can give you anything definitive."

Perotta nodded as if she'd been expecting that. "Damn small town departments," she muttered under her breath.

An hour later, they were no closer to solving anything than they had been that morning. They left the CSI people to clean up and drove back through town to the diner she and Booth had found a couple of days ago.

"I still can't believe they have no pie," Booth muttered in her ear as he escorted her through the front door.

She smiled at him over her shoulder and was rewarded with a Seeley Booth charm smile.

His hand slid from the small of her back to her hip and he squeezed gently before pulling away.

"You'll have the brownie a la mode and love it, just like you did last time," she told him as she slid into the booth, her back against the wall, just as she knew Booth would want.

He followed her in and leaned in close to whisper, "maybe you can give me some pie later."

Her eyes widened and a gasp escaped from between her lips.

"Booth…"

"Apple," he said quietly. "With whipped cream."

She stared into his dark, laughing eyes until a throat was cleared across the table and Perotta said, "You guys ready to order or what?"

He'd been able to focus on work long enough to search the crime scene earlier, but the tension now was nearly a palpable thing, pulling him in, making it impossible for him to move even an inch from her. He was aware of Perotta and Callaway watching them from across the table, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

"Salad?" He asked Bones quietly. "And vegetable soup?"

Her lips curved up and she nodded. "Yes."

"We're ready," he told Perotta, finally sliding his gaze from his partner's.

"Great," she replied a little too enthusiastically, but Booth couldn't be bothered to try to figure out what her game was; he was too focused on the way Bones's blue eyes seemed to be shooting daggers across the table at the female FBI agent.

"So now we wait for the crime scene results," Booth stated just as their meals were set down before them.

"We have the bullet from Hart, so we'll at least have the caliber. Who knows, maybe the techs will get a match in the system," Perotta remarked around a mouthful of grilled chicken. The other woman had been grinning at Booth, and trying to catch his eye all night. Vaguely, Temperance wondered if they were playing footsies under the table. The thought made her grit her teeth.

"What about the photos?" She found herself asking. "Did we get anything from them?"

Booth shook his head. "Nothing useful."

She pondered that as she took a French fry from Booth's plate and munched on it.

"We should send them to Angela," she finally stated.

"Who's Angela?" Callaway asked.

It was Agent Perotta who answered. "One of Dr. Brennan's squints. She deals with pictures and videos and stuff."

"Ange's not your average squint," Booth said, just as Temperance's temper exploded.

"Angela Montenegro is the best forensic artist on the east coast, perhaps the country. She not only analyzes audio/visual clues, she creates three dimensional representations of crime scenes, depicts scenarios on a self-designed, highly advanced computer program, and honors the dead by giving them back their faces. She commits far more to her job than you ever could, Agent Perotta."

Silence descended as they all stared at her, apparently struck dumb by her speech.

"Bones," Booth began cautiously. "Perotta wasn't discounting Angela or her job. She probably just didn't know how to explain."

Agent Perotta's blue eyes narrowed. "While Agent Booth is correct in his assumption, that gives you absolutely no right to suggest that I don't commit everything I have to my job."

The two women watched each other for several tense moments before Perotta calmly picked up her napkin, wiped her mouth and hands, and placed the crumpled square on her plate.

"We'll contact you as soon as we know anything more, Booth. And I'll be sure that Miss Montenegro receives the photos by tomorrow."

"The originals," Temperance made herself say calmly. "Copies will tell her nothing."

Perotta nodded as she stood and stepped aside so that Callaway could get up. "The originals," she agreed. And then she turned and walked out of the restaurant.

"Guess it's my turn to pay," Callaway said, reaching for his wallet.

Booth shook his head and waved the other man off. "Forget it. Dinner's on me tonight."

With a brief nod, Callaway thanked them and followed his partner out the door.

* * *

Booth was silent until the door closed behind the FBI agent, and then slowly, he turned to the woman seated beside him.

"What," he asked in a measured tone, "was that?"

She shrugged negligently, but he was surprised to note a hint of doubt in her eyes. "Her attitude irritates me," she said briskly, stabbing a cucumber with a bit more force than entirely necessary.

Booth shook his head and continued to watch her. "Her attitude?"

Bones nodded. "She is conceited and sarcastic and completely unprofessional."

He had to admit, those characteristics generally did describe Payton Perotta. But none of them warranted the performance Bones had given a few moments ago.

"I mean, the way she speaks to you and looks at you," she snorted. "It is hardly appropriate for the work place."

Understanding dawned and he nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "Ahhh."

She glanced up quickly from the remainder of her salad. "Ahhh? What does that mean?"

"It means I understand now," he said with a self-satisfied smile and a small shake of his head. She was so damn cute when she was confused.

"But, what…"

"Let's go, then." He threw enough money down on the table to cover all of the meals, stood up, and stepped back to allow her out of the booth.

"Booth, I…"

He exerted a bit of pressure to the small of her back and urged her towards the door. "We'll talk about it back at the hotel," he said next to her ear.

"But, Booth, I…"

He ignored her half-hearted protest as he buckled her into the passenger's seat of the rental, got in himself, and headed them in the direction of the hotel. Halfway there, she apparently gave up trying to make him explain, and sat back to watch the street go by in silence.

It wasn't until they were in their room with the door shut and locked behind them that either spoke again.

"You're jealous," Booth said with what he suspected must be an idiotic grin. He couldn't help it; this was just too good on so many levels.

She gasped and her hands flew to her hips in that all-too-familiar indignant pose. "I am not."

"See," he said, pointing his finger at her, "you didn't even ask what you were supposed to be jealous of."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, what _exactly_ am I jealous of?"

"Perotta," he said, watching in satisfaction as her cheeks flushed a pale pink. "And the attention she pays me."

"What? That's absurd. Why would I be…"

He took a few steps closer to her, pinning her in his gaze, and lowered his voice. "Admit it."

"I can't admit something that isn't true."

He stalked forward, and all the while she edged back away from him. "Admit it," he growled. He was feeling more and more like a hunter stalking his prey, and it was turning him on like crazy. It was a feral, animalistic thing, and admittedly heady.

"No, I…"

Her back hit the wall and a savage smile tugged at his lips. His hands landed on either side of her head and he leaned in to whisper against her hair. "Admit it, Temperance."

"Booth," she gasped and arched against him.

It wasn't an admission, but it was enough. With a low groan, he tilted his head and captured her lips in a searing, almost desperate kiss.

"Seeley," she whispered when he pulled back for air and he felt satisfaction at hearing his name on her lips.

"Temperance," he replied, gliding his hands down to her hips and pulling them tightly against his own.

"The line," she gasped.

"Like I said earlier, Bones. Screw the damn line. I only invented it because I was scared."

"S-scared?"

He nodded against her throat. "I was protecting myself. Cam had just nearly died. And already you meant more to me than you should have. I thought that if I could distance us somehow, maybe I could stop my feelings from progressing farther. I was trying to protect us both."

She laughed quietly. "I don't think it worked."

He glanced up and found her smiling that eye-crinkling smile of hers, and couldn't help but grin in return. "No. It didn't."

He kissed her again, deeply, for long moments. And she responded, clinging to him as if he were her life vest in this stormy sea of life. And, God, she felt so good against him.

"We have to stop," he said, pulling back abruptly. The heat and the passion were threatening to overwhelm his control. He knew that if he didn't call a halt now, they wouldn't stop at all. And while that thought pleased him immensely, now was not the time or the place.

"Why?" she asked, trying to draw him back to her.

He captured her hands and held them still between his own.

"Because we're both confused and stressed and a bit overwhelmed right now. I want to give us time to think about this, to discuss it."

"What's to discuss?" she asked seriously. "It's merely a biological…"

He put a hand over her mouth before she could continue. "Stop," he said harshly, shaking his head. "Between you and me, Temperance, it could never be just a fulfillment of biological urges. There is so much more to this, to us, than that, and you know it."

Her eyes were wide and questioning, and he wanted to be able to explain it all to her liking, but he knew he couldn't do that. She'd have to figure this one out on her own or else they'd never have anything real between them.

"I won't accept any less than all of you, Bones," he told her gently. "And if you can't do that--" He paused and searched her gaze with his own, all the while wondering if she could see the pain it caused him to contemplate her not being able to meet his demands. "Then we can't do this," he finished, motioning between them.

With that, he turned and headed for the bathroom, and probably a cold shower, leaving her to her scattered thoughts.

* * *

A/N: A huge shout-out to everyone who's reviewed so far! Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you thought!


	15. Of Love and Advice

Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through the season 4 finale

A/N: Again, sorry for the _extremely_ long wait! I feel like I'm ripping this story out of my head kicking and screaming. I mean, I've got most of it all planned out, but actually getting myself to sit down and write it is a whole other fiasco. Ah well, I hope you enjoy this one!

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_

Previously in The Ex at the University:

"_I won't accept any less than all of you, Bones," he told her gently. "And if you can't do that--" He paused and searched her gaze with his own, all the while wondering if she could see the pain it caused him to contemplate her not being able to meet his demands. "Then we can't do this," he finished, motioning between them._

_With that, he turned and headed for the bathroom, and probably a cold shower, leaving her to her scattered thoughts. _

* * *

"Oh my God, Bren, a stalker? And he blew up Booth's car? Why didn't you call me sooner?"

Temperance shifted on her hotel room bed, straightening the pillows up behind her and smoothing the too-stiff covers. She'd just finished explaining the whole ordeal to Angela and was just now bracing herself for the worry and concern her friend was undoubtedly about to express.

"Well, with one thing and another, we've been rather busy. You'll take a look at the photos, though, won't you, Ange?"

"Of course I'll look at them, sweetie. I'll let you know anything I can. God, are you sure the two of you are alright?"

Temperance glanced uneasily at the closed bedroom door, thinking of how Booth had pressed her up against it only minutes before. His demand flashed ominously through her mind. _"I won't accept any less than all of you, Bones."_

She took a deep, shuddering breath and gripped the cell phone a little bit tighter.

"We're fine, Angela. Booth's injury is healing nicely. He doesn't even take the pain meds anymore. The stitches should come out in another day or two."

Angela snorted softly. "He's probably just playing the tough, macho FBI agent. Refuse the medication no matter how much something hurts."

Temperance was sure that was partly true. Booth would also not want to be impaired in any way while he was dealing with an ongoing investigation. Especially one involving her… She pushed the thought away.

"Agent Perotta seems to find him plenty tough and macho," she heard herself saying.

"Ah," Angela said in a knowing tone. "You had mentioned she was there."

"Cullen sent her."

"I'm picking up some hard feelings here."

Temperance forced herself to sound innocent and aloof. Something she'd never been particularly good at. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Uh, uh, uh, no fooling me, Bren. You might be able to fool yourself. Heck, maybe you're still even fooling Booth, but I know you, hon, and I recognize jealousy when I hear it."

"Wha—I—that's ridiculous."

Angela ignored her. "I'd noticed it the last time you guys worked with her. I mean, the woman is an outrageous flirt, and if your glares could kill, she'd be six feet under right now. But don't worry, sweetie, your man's got eyes only for you."

"My…my man? Angela, he's not my…"

"When are you two going to step out of Denial Land and join the rest of us mere mortals here on Earth? Because everyone else can see it, hon. It's just the two of you who are blind."

The water cut off in the outer bathroom and Temperance's heart pounded frantically in her chest. She could see him in her mind, naked, water dripping down his chiseled chest to his well formed pecs, lower to his…a shudder rippled through her and she forced herself to focus back on what Angela had been saying.

"What can all of you see?" She asked quietly.

Angela was silent for several moments and Temperance began to worry that she wouldn't answer.

"Ang…"

"That you're in love."

The rest of whatever Temperance had been about to say got stuck in her throat.

"But I'm not…we're not…we're just partners."

"You both keep saying that, Bren, but the way you guys act, the way you look at each other, the way you speak of each other, it proves that you're more."

Temperance's head was reeling. First Booth, and now Angela? How could everyone presume to know her mind when she wasn't even sure she knew it herself? Booth hadn't come right out and said anything, but the way he'd been so adamant, so sure that there was something more between them… _"Between you and me, Temperance, it could never be just a fulfillment of biological urges. There is so much more to this, to us, than that, and you know it."_

"But I'm not…I can't be…in love."

"Why not?" Angela asked softly.

"Because I…because it… love is not a quantifiable emotion," she reasoned. Who was she trying to convince here, Angela, or herself?

"Oh, sweetie. Emotions are never quantifiable."

"They're mental and physiological states in which…"

"They're also completely subjective, Bren. Meaning that no one can really measure them; they're different for each individual. Stop trying to fit everything into the realm of factual, definable scientific equations. Love was never meant to be defined like that."

Temperance sunk further into the pillows and listened to Booth moving around in the outer room. It was sort of comforting just knowing that he was out there, even though her thoughts were in complete chaos in here.

"How do you know, then, what it is? Or even that it exists? Angela, I…"

"Let me ask you a question, sweetie. Does the wind exist?"

"Yes, of course, Angela. Why would you ask such a…"

"How do you know?"

All was silent in the other room. Booth must have decided to sleep on the couch. For some reason, that thought made her incredibly sad. She shook her head and refocused.

"What? How do I know what?"

"How do you know that the wind exists?"

Temperance shifted uneasily on the bed. She knew that this was probably a trick question, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what Angela was getting at. That sort of thing was Booth's forte…

"I…I can feel it—on my skin or in my hair. And I can see its effect on other objects."

"Exactly," Angela breathed triumphantly.

Temperance felt her eyes narrow. "What?"

"Love. You can feel it—your love for another person. And you can see its effect in the way two people act around each other, the way they look at each other, what they're willing to do for the other. That's all love, honey. That's how you know it exists."

Temperance muddled through those highly irrational words for a few moments before clearing her throat. "But how do you know…when you feel it, that is?"

"Oh, sweetie, it's different for each person."

"But how do I know, Angela?"

Another long, silent pause followed before Angela spoke softly from the other end of the line. "What you feel for Booth, have you ever felt it for anyone else?"

It took her awhile to answer that. It wasn't easy to categorize what she felt for Booth, let alone compare it to what she felt for anyone else.

"Bits of it," she finally admitted.

"For whom?" Angela asked.

"Well…my parents, I suppose, back before…" she cleared her throat, "when I was younger. And Russ. With Sully, also, but it wasn't as…"

"Intense?" Angela asked.

"I was going to say acute. But yes. And I guess I feel some parts of it for you and Jack and…Zack."

Angela remained quiet, allowing Temperance the time to fully comprehend what she was saying. She'd never thought of it in these terms before—comparing what she felt for Booth with what she felt for those other important people in her life. There was affection, of course, and a deep sense of caring. But with Booth…

"How do you feel when you're with him?" Angela asked finally.

"Safe," Temperance answered automatically. "Physically, of course, but then I can take care of myself if I have to."

"Of course," Angela said with a light laugh. "How else?"

"It's…hard to describe. Emotionally, I guess, or psychologically. I don't know. It's like, he understands me. He sees the real me, the whole me, and he doesn't want me to change. I feel like he tries to keep the rest of the world from trying to change me, as well."

"He's the filter," Angela said quietly, "between you and the rest of the world."

Temperance chuckled. "Lord knows I need one. I'm not exactly a people person."

"And he knows that, sweetie. And instead of trying to fix you, he's that person _for_ you. He shelters you, protects you from those who don't understand you like he does."

"Yes," Temperance said, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her chest, "that's exactly how I feel."

"What else?"  
"I…I'm free with him; freer than with anyone else. I can be me. I can laugh and be silly and childish and he doesn't care. He doesn't judge me. He's not always expecting more from me. In fact, sometimes I get the feeling he wishes I'd do less."

"And how do you feel when you're not with him?"

"I don't…I don't think that I understand. There are many times when we're apart and I've gotten along just fine."

"I don't mean apart for a few hours or a day or two. I mean truly separated. How did you feel when he was shot last year? When you thought he was gone?"

A pit opened up in the bottom of her stomach and it was like her whole self, her whole world was sucked down into it. Her vision went blurry and unfocused.

"Angela," she gasped, blinking away the tears.

"It's alright, sweetie. I already know; you were devastated."

Devastated did not even begin to describe it; the word itself was not nearly strong enough to describe the horror, the absolute gut wrenching terror that she had felt the moment she'd been informed of his death. Broken, incomplete, torn asunder, those were more apt terms for what she had been. It had been like a whole chunk of her had just been ripped out and thrown away; a rather large chunk—almost like a whole half of her.

"How did you feel when he was taken by the grave digger? Or when he had the brain tumor? Or the other night when he was unconscious and bleeding on top of you?"

"Angela, stop. Please, stop. I get it."

She was taking deep, slow breaths now to keep from hyperventilating. Even the thought of Booth injured or in danger or… dead. It was too much. It didn't make any sense at all; he was perfectly safe in the next room. It was not rational. But then, as she'd recently learned, _love_ was not rational.

"Can you picture life without him?" She heard Angela ask as if through a haze. There was no thought required in answering that question. She'd had reason to contemplate it before and the answer had not changed. Would never change, she realized.

"No."

"So what are you afraid of?" Angela cajoled. "What have you got to lose?"

She was afraid that he would leave her, just like everyone else. She was afraid that he wouldn't. She was afraid of losing her independence, her strength, herself. She was afraid that she couldn't feel for him what he needed her to. She was afraid that she would feel too much for him and that it would end up consuming her. But more than anything, she decided, she was afraid of never having known what she could have if she allowed herself to give in and fall into the arms of Seeley Booth.

"I don't know," she told Angela.

"Just go for it, sweetie. You'll thank me sooner or later. I'll check out those photos and let you know what I find. Be careful up there. I'd wish you luck, but you don't need it." And with that, Angela hung up, leaving Temperance to contemplate the impossibility of being in love with Agent Seeley Booth.

* * *

A/N: I know Brennan seems a little more insightful than she might usually be. Chalk it up to Angela's influence. Sorry it's such a short chapter, I really just wanted to get something out there for you guys. I promise there's more action to come—both kinds, of course;) I was totally hoping to get this story finished by the time school started up again, but the writer's block is killing me. Bear with me and I promise I'll finish it. Thanks, again, for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought!


	16. Of Gunshots and Alibis

Disclaimer: I haven't written in so long I've forgotten what one of these is…Just kidding, you can see Chapter 1 for mine.

Spoilers: Through Season 5 ep. 7, The Tough Man in the Tender Chicken, just to be safe

A/N: I can't tell you how sorry I am for the utter lack of updates. I mean, seriously, one of my pet peeves is authors who _never_ update! And here I am one of them. Go figure. Anyway, my only excuse is real life, which I think is a pretty good excuse overall. Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me on this one. Here's the next installment for your reading pleasure.

* * *

And because you've probably all forgotten the whole premise of the story by now…Previously in The Ex:

_Bones went to Vermont to speak at a university, ran into an ex-boyfriend who continued to pursue her despite her protests, called Angela for advice, and got our favorite knight in FBI issued body armor as a solution. Booth showed up, moved into her hotel room, posed as her boyfriend, and took her out on the town a bit. Enter creepy stalker. A bunch of creepy, threatening photos showed up at the hotel, ex-boy kept pursuing, there was some "practicing" between Booth and Bones, and more photos showed up. There was a book signing, ex-boy said he had something important to tell Bones, Booth's SUV went 'boom', and he got a bad knock on the head. Booth survived (of course), called in the FBI, found out Bones's car was sabotaged, and discovered a dead body (ex-boy). Agents Perotta and Callaway showed up…_

_Oh yeah, and the damn line disappeared._

_And then…there was some clashing between Perotta and Bones (of course), Booth told Bones she was jealous (of course), there was a big smooch (of course), he explained about the line, he decided he wouldn't accept "any less than all of her", Booth took a shower (cold), Bones called Ange for advice, and she got this:_

"_Just go for it, sweetie. You'll thank me sooner or later. I'll check out those photos and let you know what I find. Be careful up there. I'd wish you luck, but you don't need it." And with that, Angela hung up, leaving Temperance to contemplate the impossibility of being in love with Agent Seeley Booth._

* * *

Bones was in the bedroom with the door closed when Booth finally came out of the bathroom. Booth let out a sigh as he made his way to the sofa. It was going to take awhile for Bones to adjust to the whole "I need all of you" thing. She'd been in so many relationships where it was only either physical or intellectual stimulation that was given and received, never both. And there wasn't ever much emotion involved…at least, he'd never thought so. But now there would be. Or else there would be none of the other things. He couldn't have a physical relationship with Dr. Temperance Brennan without the knowledge that she was just as emotionally involved as he was. He just couldn't do it.

But Bones had some real soul-searching to do before she could hand herself over to him, he understood that. She had been hurt and abandoned too many times in her life to do such things lightly. Time, he could give her. Lord knew, he'd given himself enough of the commodity. It was the distance that was going to be a problem. Because until this case was solved, Booth did not plan on venturing more than thirty feet from the woman. He supposed that the closed bedroom door between them would just have to do for now.

Booth glanced at his watch. Eleven o'clock. It would only be eight in Nevada. He flipped open his phone and speed-dialed Rebecca's cell.

"Hello."

"Hi, Rebecca, it's me. Is Parker there?"

"Yeah, Seeley, he's been hoping you'd call. Let me get…"

There was a short tussle on the other end of the line and then Parker's voice came through, "Dad?"

"Yeah, Park. How're things going over there in Nevada?"

"Booooring," the little boy whined. "Grandma and Grandpop don't have any video games and their TV only gets five channels and they don't even have a dvd player. Can you believe that?"

"Wow, buddy, sounds like you're really roughing it," Booth chuckled, thinking how times had really changed since he'd been a kid. He'd been satisfied with a couple of G.I. Joes and a big backyard. It was like kids today couldn't survive without laptops and digital cable and Wii.

"Yeah, I know, right?"

"So what have you been doing to keep from dying of boredom out there?"

"Well, I went swimming with some neighbor kids, and mom and Jackson took me to the park to toss the ball around. Dad, did you know that mom and Jackson both throw like girls?"

Booth laughed in spite of himself. "Well, you know, Park, your mom _is_ a girl."

"I wish I could come home and stay with you," Parker said, ignoring his father's remark.

"Well, that _would_ be awesome, buddy, but I'm not at home."

"Where are you? Are you on a case? Did Bones start checking out the dead guy yet?"

Booth closed his eyes and shook his head. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't keep his kid completely out of this aspect of his job.

"What's the rule, Park?"

Parker groaned and Booth was sure that the little boy was rolling his eyes.

"No talking about the dead bodies and stuff until I have armpit hair."

"Exactly. Now, in answer to your questions, I'm in Vermont, and no, I'm not on a case."

"What are you doing in Vermont, then?"

"Bones is here for a conference at a local college and I came to hang out with her." There was no reason for Parker to know what danger he and his partner were currently in. Or the fact that he was doing more than hanging out with his forensic anthropologist.

"Good thing you're there, dad. She probably would have been bored to death without you. Who goes to school during the summer?"

Booth chuckled. "Bones does."

"Ewww."

"Yeah, bud, ewww."

"So, dad, when I get home, can I…"

The rest of his son's sentence was cut off by a loud pop from somewhere outside followed swiftly by the sound of breaking glass. Years in the army and in the FBI shooting range hearing that unmistakable sound had Booth on his feet and headed for the bedroom door before he remembered that he was still on the phone with his son.

"Gotta go, bub." He flipped the phone closed, pulled out his gun, and busted through the door all in one swift move.

"Bones, get down."

Her answer came from somewhere near the foot of the bed, "I am down. You get down."

He ignored her and moved quickly to the left of the broken window.

"Are you hit?" He asked without looking back at her. His eyes roved the street below which was even now crawling with the patrolmen who had been posted outside the building.

"No, I'm fine. Booth, get away from the window."

Booth shook his head and holstered his gun. "He's gone," he said, turning to face her. She was now seated on the floor at the foot of the bed, farthest from the window. Her hair was tousled and she was biting her lip, but otherwise she appeared unharmed.

"You okay?" He asked, covering the distance between them and reaching down to pull her up.

"I just said that I was, didn't I?" She replied, smoothing out her clothes. "Are you?"

He watched her for a few more moments before nodding. "Yeah, yeah I just heard the shot and…"

His cell phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down at it, just now realizing that he'd never put it down. He flipped it open and put it to his ear. "Booth."  
"Seeley? Are you alright? Parker said he heard a loud noise and then you said you had to go and hung up."

Booth let out a long breath. "I'm fine, Rebecca. Tell Parker I'm fine. Tell him I'll try and call him soon."

"Seeley, is everything alright? Park said you were on vacation with Dr. Brennan. Was that…did he hear a gun shot? Seeley, he said he heard a gun shot."

Booth stared at Bones as he answered. She was watching him curiously. He held up a finger to tell her that he'd explain in a minute.

"Yeah, Rebecca, it was. Listen, something came up out here and I'm investigating a case. I don't want Park to worry, though. Make something up, okay? I'll call when I can."

"Of course. But, Seeley…"

"Yeah, Bec?"

"Be careful, okay?"

He smiled slightly. "Always. Tell Parker I love him."

"I will."

He had no sooner flipped the phone closed than it was buzzing again.

"Booth."

Bones made to head towards the broken window, probably to appease her infinite curiosity, but he snagged her by her shirt and pulled her back towards him.

"Agent Booth? This is Deputy Trevaine. Are you and Dr. Brennan alright?"

"Yeah, we're fine. What can you tell me?"

"We've apprehended the man who just shot out your window. We have him in custody and are now transporting him to the station. I'm sending up a couple of uniforms to escort yourself and Dr. Brennan."

"You caught him?" Booth asked. He sounded amazed, even to his own ears.

"Yes, sir. We've informed the other two FBI agents and they're on their way to the station as well."

Booth glanced down at Bones, now glaring up at him from the crook of his arm. They both knew that if she really wanted to be free, she would have been by now.

_They caught him_, he mouthed, giving her a wide-eyed, can-you-believe-it stare.

"Yeah," she said out loud, "I heard."

He rolled his eyes at her and focused back on his phone conversation.

"Thank you, deputy Trevain, and good job tonight."

"Yes, sir."

Booth disconnected and glanced down at Bones.

"You know, that kid's not completely useless. Now his boss…"

A knock at the door interrupted what he'd been going to say about Captain Westin. "Agent Booth? It's Officer Perry. We're here to escort you to the station."

He tightened his hold on Bones for a moment and grinned down at her.

"Get dressed, Bones. It looks like we've got a suspect to interrogate. I know how you love that."

* * *

"What do you mean his alibi checks out?" Booth asked, as they both glared through the two way glass at Nathan Waltham, the grad student who had wanted to put Zach's life down on paper for the whole world to dissect. "He shot at Bones' window tonight, of course he's our guy."

Agent Perotta shook her head mournfully. "He might have shot at Dr. Brennan's window, but he didn't take the pictures of the two of you at the Teddy Bear Factory."

Temperance watched as Booth ran a hand back through his already messy hair.

"What about the second set of pictures?"

"Well, that's harder to determine as they were all taken at different times. We do know that he couldn't have killed Logan Hart."

"How do we know that?" Temperance asked.

Perotta turned her attention from the FBI agent to the forensic anthropologist.

"Well aside from the fact that the gun he used tonight was not even the same caliber as the one used to kill Hart…"

Temperance began to interrupt with the intention of informing the agent that that didn't prove anything, but the other woman quickly forged on.

"And no other gun was found either in his possession, in his vehicle, or at his residence…"

She opened her mouth again, this time to tell Perotta that a gun was easily ditched, but the blonde raised a hand and talked right over her.

"But he also has an airtight alibi for that morning."

Temperance felt her eyes narrow and she opened her mouth to reprimand the female agent for being rude and interrupting her, but Booth placed a hand on her shoulder effectively silencing her long enough for him to cut in.

"And what is his alibi?"

"Well, the coroner determined that time of death was sometime between 6 a.m and 8 a.m. the morning after the car explosion at the book store."

"The one in which _my_ car was exploded," Booth clarified.

"Yes, that one. Anyway, Waltham was with a Dr…" she glanced down at a small notepad, "Sarah Thompson. He was helping her set up for a seminar which took place later in the day."

"Can anyone else vouch for his whereabouts? This Thompson could be covering for him," Booth said.

"Two other grad students and one faculty member."

Booth's head fell forward to rest gently on the glass. Temperance heard him mumble something about 'square one'.

She turned back to Perotta.

"What about the bomb? Or my car failure?"

"Car failure? I didn't know that was related." She turned to Booth for confirmation.

He nodded. "My gut tells me it is."

"We listen to his gut," Temperance told the female agent.

She nodded slowly. "Of course we do."

Booth turned back to face them and scrubbed his hands over his face a few times before speaking.

"See if he has an alibi for either of those incidents, and then get back to me."

"And if he doesn't?"

Temperance could see him gritting his teeth as he answered the other agent. "Find a connection. Something that links him to any other aspect of this crime."

Perotta nodded. "Okay, okay, no need to get testy."

Booth ignored her as he moved past them both and left the room.

Temperance turned back to the other woman. "You probably want to be careful what you say to him right now," she told her. "He doesn't like it when I get shot at."

And with that, she followed her partner out of the room.

* * *

"I'm taking you back to the hotel," Booth told Bones an hour later as he led her towards the front door of the cop shop.

"But we haven't solved the crime yet, we still don't know if he did any of it or not."

He stopped midstride and turned to face her. With a hand on either side of her face, he tipped her head up. "Bones, we're both dead on our feet. We need some sleep. There's nothing left for us to do here. We'll let the lab techs and the plainclothes do some legwork and we'll pick it up fresh in the morning."

"Booth, it is morning."

He shook his head and pulled her into his side to continue their walk to the door.

"At a less ungodly hour of the morning."

"But, Booth, you believe that God…"

"Figure of speech, Bones. Just…forget it, okay?"

He could feel her watching him for a few seconds before she finally agreed.

He helped her into the passenger's seat once they'd reached the rental car, then ran around to the other side and slid in behind the wheel. He peered over at her in the darkness. "Everything will make more sense in the morning," he told her.

"You mean later in the morning."

"Yes," he said with a nod as he started the car and pulled out of the lot, "that's exactly what I mean."

They were silent for several moments as Booth maneuvered the car through the mostly-empty, dark streets.

"Do you think he did it?" Bones finally asked.

He didn't really have to think about it. Just the look on that kid's face in the interrogation room when Callaway had mentioned Bones' name…

"Yeah, Bones, I do."

"Then how do you explain the fact that he has an alibi?"

He shrugged. "Dunno, Bones. We've had stranger cases, though. Like I said, things will make more sense in the morning."

They were silent again until they'd reached the hotel.

"Booth, where are we sleeping? They'll have our room closed off as a crime scene, won't they?"

Booth nodded as he helped her from the car and led her to the elevator. "The manager found us a vacant room. I had a couple of the uniforms move our stuff."

"You let them touch my stuff?"

He pulled her into the elevator and into his arms. "Yeah, Bones, and I'm sure everything is fine, okay?"

He nuzzled his face into the top of her hair and breathed in. God, she smelled good. Like some herbal shampoo that he equated solely with her.

He felt her slowly relax back into him and then a sigh escaped from between her lips. "Okay," she said.

The new room wasn't far from their old one and it was the same set-up. They took turns using the bathroom and brushing their teeth, and then Booth took Bones by the hand and led her to the bedroom. He pulled back the covers and fell back into bed, pulling her with him.

"Booth?" She queried quietly.

"You know I'm not leaving you, Temperance, not after what happened tonight. So just relax and go to sleep, okay? I'm right here."

He thought she might want to argue, but instead she simply flipped off the bedside lamp and lay down beside him.

"Goodnight, Seeley," she said quietly.

In that moment he couldn't resist the urge to reach over and pull her into his arms. Once she was safe against his chest, he leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Sleep tight, Temperance."

They slept without dreams.

* * *

A/N: Can anyone sense a conclusion coming? Well, one is. Probably only a couple more chapters to go on this one. Please, please, please let me know what you thought.


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